


Monsters

by CoyoteBlues



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Ultimateverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution, X-Men: First Class (Comics)
Genre: CIA, Chalres is the Comic Relief, Completed, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Gen, High-School, How They Should Have Done X-Men Apocalypse, KGB, Kurt is a cinnamon roll, Life at Westchester, Mama Raven, Papa Azazel, Raven and Azazel as Parents, Sassy Clarice, Too Much Drinking, dadneto, maximoff twins, teenage X-Men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-02-06 11:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 64
Words: 211,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoyoteBlues/pseuds/CoyoteBlues
Summary: Raven rescues Kurt with a little help from an old friend; Kurt, meanwhile, gets a little more than he bargained for. Story is AU and takes place during & a little bit after "X-Men Apocalypse (XMA)." Cannon pairing (mostly), multiple POVs as story progresses. Razazel & Kanda fans, look no further; Peter &  Wanda fans, this is a story for you too!





	1. The Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Private thoughts, flashbacks/dreams, and telepathic conversations appear in italics.
> 
> Hello Readers! "Monsters" will feature some graphic violence and it will get a little racy here and there (meow!), so you know, adult warnings and all that jazz. While this story is mostly drama/serious, those of you who know my writing can expect some comedic gems interspersed as the tale unfolds.
> 
> The title of this story is inspired by the Latin phrase HC SVNT DRACONES, which translates to "here be dragons" (sometimes, "here be monsters"). This tale was also inspired by Metric's song "Black Sheep," which you can find on YouTube.
> 
> Happy reading and as always, comments & kudos are love!

_**East Berlin, Germany (U.S.S.R.) – Present (1983)** _

The ice cracked sharply against the glass, the only movement from his position on the catwalk where he stood perfectly still, silently surveying the packed club floor below. Of course, with the deafening music and the jeering cries of the spectators so loud he could feel the noise in his bones, he couldn't hear the shifting of the melting ice. His focus wasn't on the music or the party-goers or his rapidly warming drink; no, his attention was on the grey suit seated to the right of the main fight cage, indulgently chewing on a cigar while some little dark-haired whore hung off his arm, waving away the noxious smoke. It was an excellent spot; from his perch shrouded in shadows above the blinding lights, he could stalk his prey without fear of being seen or heard from below. The grey suit was his target; his bosses made it quite clear with the thick stack of money slipped to him a few hours before that this man was to  _disappear_. If there was one thing he excelled at, it was making people  _vanish_  into thin air.

The flamboyant announcer cried out for the next match to come forth, or at least, that's what he guessed by the maddening response from the crowd. His German was terrible at best, but talking really didn't matter in his line of work. Secure in his position, his eyes drifted away from his target long enough to watch handlers hauling a chained metal box towards the cage entrance. A winged fighter stood victorious inside the cage, his feathery plumes beating forward as he pumped his fists and rallied the crowd, awaiting the next opponent.  _Cage matches_ , the shadowed man sneered, fighting the urge to roll his eyes,  _such drama for such play fighting_. These matches were child's play compared to the rigorous training he went through when he was even younger than these fighters; more than half of the recruits in his line of work didn't even  _survive_  their first month on the job.

He turned his concentration back to his target and sipped his drink, not even bothering to watch the metal box being unloaded into the ring. The grey suit cheered on the fight, waving money and his cigar in the air as bets were surely won in his favor while his whore checked her watch with bored, glassy eyes.  _Enjoy it before your luck runs out_ , the man smirked as he threw back the rest of his drink and placed the glass on the floor, now leaning almost casually on the catwalk railing. This assignment had been easy, almost  _boringly_ so. He knew the grey suit was waiting for this final match to finish before leaving through the VIP rear exit. He'd strike when the suit was waiting for his car, which courtesy of a little  _visit_  he paid the driver earlier, wouldn't be arriving as scheduled. He'd finish this job in the next hour, tops. The night would still be young; he mused what he could do with his free time once this assignment was complete. Maybe he'd go out for a bit, or call a girl. He hadn't called a girl in a while. He briefly wondered if Nadya was working that night. He liked Nadya. She a pretty little redhead who never once flinched or hesitated when he touched her. She was also smart enough to keep silly mouth shut, unlike some of the other girls in his bosses' employment. Small talk made him uncomfortable. He hated their well-meaning, curious questions and comments; he much preferred silence from a woman. Yes, a little company sounded like a very nice way to celebrate an easy assignment. Below him the match had started earnest, but he didn't even glance at the fighters. His fingertips brushed his concealed weapon as he concentrated on his target, savoring the last few minutes before the strike.

Suddenly, metallic purple flashed to the left of his mark. It was brief, but the gleam drew his gaze. He saw a young blonde woman in a revealing dress slip past the grey suit, smiling as she snaked her way through the crowd. Something about her abrupt appearance made him frown. While he could only partially see her face, she looked somehow  _familiar,_ and instinctively, he felt something was  _wrong_. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating as he tracked her movements. For a fleeting few seconds, the blonde turned and faced the main cage. Displeasure flickered across her features as she watched the battle beneath where he stood hidden in shadows. He suddenly inhaled sharply and stood up very straight, his eyes widening and his hands reflexively clenching down on the railing in his shock of recognition.

 _Foolish!_  He slammed his fist against the catwalk railing. Adrenaline and anger flooded his veins as he watched the blonde briskly move towards the club's back operations.  _Foolish girl!_  He ran his hand through his hair as if to calm himself, his eyes darting around the catwalk as tried to make sense of the situation and steady his breathing. After a brief pause, he looked back down at her, scowling, his heart still beating hard enough in shock that he could feel it thumping in his chest.  _What was that stupid girl thinking, wearing such a recognizable face? And here, in the East, of all places?_ She had a high price on her head, after what she did in '67. She knew better than to show her face –  _any_  face of hers – in the Eastern Bloc and expect to make it out alive. If he recognized that face of hers so quickly, there was no telling how many other people had recognized it too. That pretty little mask was going to get her  _killed_.

He moved silently down the catwalk, now tracking her every step. She had slipped out of the throng of taunting onlookers and rapidly approached the man guarding the cage controls. His eyes flickered back to the grey suit; he was dismayed to see his carefully stalked prey was now moving towards the exit with his whore in tow. His glanced back to the blonde; she was now flirting with one of the cage guards. A thought surfaced in his mind; the price on her head was at least three times that of the grey suit's, especially if he took her alive…

 _No_.

He shook his head, unsettled by his own silent consideration. He couldn't permit himself to think in those terms.

He looked back again to see his target almost at the VIP exit; an easy kill slipping rapidly out of his grasp. When he next faced the blonde, she was sprawled on the floor, blood dripping from her split lower lip. The cage guard was clutching his face, blood seeping between his fingers from a broken nose, but his other hand was groping the gun holster on his hip. He wavered with indecision. No one else in the crowd noticed their violent interaction; they were too focused on the mutants battling the in cage. Judging by the rising intensity of their screams, one of the fighters had scored a defeating hit against his opponent. He watched the blonde twist to face the cage operator just as the man drew his gun level with her face. In the distance, the grey suit vanished through the back exit.

He released the catwalk railing, and narrowing his eyes, he drew his own weapon.

It was time to make a choice.


	2. Ghosts

Many things led Raven to be laying on the floor of the underground club, bleeding and staring down the barrel of a gun.

First, there was of course the very existence of the club itself. Rumors reached her months ago about covert mutant fighting rings in Eastern Europe. These fights pitted mutants against each another in a perverse battle of powers, like a twisted, real-life video game. They only existed for a night or two before moving to a new secret location, making the operations highly difficult to track. Second, there were whispers of mutants disappearing only to be found dead, often with horrific injuries or bullet wounds, discarded on the streets in the same cities these underground fights were rumored to take place. There was an unspoken fear brewing in the mutant community; a fear that powerful mutants or those with exceptional physical mutations were being snatched from their homes and hideouts and forced to battle in these fight-or-die operations. Few things inspired white-hot rage in Raven more than mutant-trafficking and the thought of mutants dying solely for human entertainment.

Third, and most important, was Caliban's cryptic message to her days before. She had visited his headquarters to arrange passage to Westchester for a young girl with a highly visible mutation. Although Raven hadn't spoken to Charles since '73, she had been clandestinely filling his school with students for years, often relying on Caliban's services when her rescues displayed physical or difficult-to-control mutations. Caliban was a  _tricky_  person, as far as Raven was concerned. She didn't fully trust him, even though over the years he proved to be reliable enough for her needs. All of Raven's rescues had been safely relocated, and she knew Caliban would keep his word once he gave it. The tricky part was  _getting_  his word to begin with. Caliban had a steep price, and if the price was right, Raven often wondered if Caliban's word was ever for sale.

"Caliban is wondering if Mystique has heard of the great and undefeated fighter Archangel?" Caliban inquired in his polite yet creepy manner when she handed him payment to transport her newest ward. Raven remained silent; she didn't have time for small talk or Caliban's games. The mutant transporter knew very well that she had been tracking information on the underground fight scene in the East. So far her search only led her to human-on-human fights, or fights between consenting mutants that didn't end in fatalities.

"Oh, how the fight promoters love their Archangel!" Caliban continued, ignoring her silence as he counted her money. "Such a beautiful mutation, and so strong! They love their Archangel so much that they even asked Caliban to find a  _demon_  playmate for him; one might say, for a battle of  _good_  verses  _evil_." Caliban stated this nonchalantly, but his eyes glanced up to catch her reaction. Raven steeled her face, belying the cold ball of fear growing in her stomach at his words. After a long, uncomfortable silence, the man finished counting the money. Satisfied, he put his hands on the table and leaned forward, looking at the blue woman in earnest.

"Of course, Caliban did  _not_  help them," Caliban smiled widely, as if to reassure her. The knot in her stomach lessened and Raven nodded before turning to leave. She didn't like being in Caliban's presence any longer than necessary. She knew he wasn't a telepath, but there was something about his way of hinting at her darkest secrets, ones he couldn't  _possibly_  know, that unnerved her.

"Mystique?" Raven stopped and peered at Caliban over her shoulder.

" _What_?" She demanded. A thin, cruel smile grew on his lips. She was getting tired of his manipulating tone and the entire conversation.

"Did you know the  _Munich Circus_  is in town?" A wave of adrenaline raced through her as if someone poured ice down her back. She played her best poker face, raising an eyebrow, as if to say ' _so what?_ ' to his question, but her heart was now beating so hard she felt it would burst. Raven was  _very aware_  of the Munich Circus, although she never once breathed a word to anyone as to  _why_. Caliban pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. He put it on the table and slid it towards Raven. She snatched the paper and unfolded it. It was a small poster advertisement, torn from store window. It showed a simple drawing of a smiling blue devil with golden eyes swinging on trapeze by a tail. Beneath the image it read: " _See The Incredible Nightcrawler!"_

"Such a  _curious_  mutation, don't you think? And what lovely colors!" Caliban shrugged casually before waving in dismissal. "Caliban just thought you might like to know." He turned to his next client. Raven felt nauseous as she ran up the steps, bolting from Caliban's lair. If Caliban was telling the truth - even if he didn't help the promoters find what they sought - his message was a warning that it was only a matter of time before before they discovered  _him_ on their own. In all her travels, she had met exactly two mutants she'd describe as  _demonic_. The first was a shadow from her past, dead and gone; the second was her own flesh-and-blood, just about to reach his seventeenth birthday, whether he knew that or not.

* * *

The warehouse was loud, smokey, and dank. To blend in, Raven created a scandalous metallic dress and chanced wearing a familiar face. She knew this particular face was  _risky_ , but accidentally showing her natural skin would be a death sentence; she trusted this face enough to know she wouldn't shift it accidentally in shock or surprise. Raven never traveled through the Eastern Bloc - not after the events of '67 - but this particular reason made it unavoidable. A blonde Raven melted into the crowd and pushed towards the main cage, scanning the layout of the warehouse to find its exits and weak spots. She noted the armed men standing guard. She saw a winged young man in the cage she could only assume was the famed Archangel. By his rally cries and fist pumps, she briefly wondered if he was there by choice, despite what the presence of armed men told her.

_"Meine Damen und Herren ...! Gut gegen Böse ...! Engel gegen Teufel...!"_

The garish announcer sang the billing of the fight as Raven spied a box being hauled to the cage. Sparks sizzled around it, as if it was made from electricity. Raven saw the same sparks radiating off the cage fencing.  _He must be a teleporter,_ she realized. She knew first-hand that certain electric fields interfered with a teleporter's ability to pass freely through them. The box was roughly upending into the cage and the body inside spilled out unceremoniously, landing face-first on the floor. When the spotlight illuminated the ring, Raven finally saw  _him_.

For the briefest second, she didn't see the teenage stranger, tossed into a cage to fight for his life. Instead, she saw the tiny infant in her arms for the three glorious, breathtaking days that she allowed herself to love him. When he vanished, she couldn't help but smile slightly with pride, until she heard his shrieks of pain when he hit the fencing in his desperate attempts to escape. Each jolt made her quake, as if she was being shocked alongside him. When he finally stopped trying to escape and stood wide-eyed and confused in the center of the ring, Raven saw for the first time how hard his entire body as shaking in fear and pain.

She turned away quickly, feeling tears burning her eyes. Raven didn't watch where she was going and bumped into the woman behind her. She smiled apologetically at both the dark-haired woman and the man in the grey suit next to her. She kept moving through the crowd, trying not to break down each time she heard the sting of the electric fencing. Only after she reached the other side did she face the fight again. They were both on a rafter now, the angel striking at the indigo boy with his wings, but he was holding his own, moving acrobatically to avoid being hit. Displeasure flickered across Raven's face. She abandoned him; it was  _her fault_  the boy was now fighting for his life, and she would be  _damned_  if she didn't get him out of that wicked cage.

She glanced to the left of the fight and saw a control tower. Her eyes followed the controls to the shadowed ceiling, where the main electrical conduits glowed each time the fencing was struck. For a split second, Raven swore she saw a flicker of movement in the catwalk shadows. She shook her head and walked towards the guard at cage controls. Raven had a plan.

She would rescue the indigo boy and they would both travel immediately to Westchester, to the safe halls of Charles's school. She wasn't ready to tell the boy the truth of his past or who she was, but for the first time in seventeen years, she wanted to rest knowing that her son wouldn't have to live as a secret in some dark recess of her mind. She wanted to know he'd always be safe with family, even if he didn't know that's who they truly were.

* * *

All her noble intentions looked lost now as she breathed hard on the ground, tasting blood and staring down the barrel of a gun. Raven had been shot once before, in '73. She didn't know which part had hurt more: the bullet entering her flesh or the fact that it had been put there by someone she once trusted, even loved.  _I'm so sorry_ , she whispered in her head; a final, silent apology to the child she failed since the moment she brought him into the world.

She waited for the killing blow, but it never came.

Instead of a bullet exploding, she heard a soft rush of air and a surprised gasp escape the guard's lips. She looked from the gun to the guard's eyes. He was staring in wild confusion at where she lay. Both Raven and the guard then turned their eyes to the source of the man's surprise; a thin silver blade, like a stiletto needle, protruded from his chest directly in line with his heart. The guard looked back at Raven, his face contorted in an expression almost as if he was asking her to help him figure out just what exactly went wrong before his eyes glazed over and he crumpled to the ground. As he fell, the blade slipped silently out of his chest. A figure stepped over the dead guard, out of the shadows and into the light; her  _savior_. He looked at Raven silently before extending his free hand for her to take. Even in the dusky light of the club, she couldn't help but notice that the blood dripping down the blade matched the color of his skin.

Raven wasn't looking at a savior _;_ she was looking at a  _ghost_.


	3. Disappearing Acts

"You're _dead_." Raven's trembling voice barely registered above a whisper, and she made no move towards his outstretched hand. Her only actual movement was the opening and closing of her mouth like a fish as she gaped in utter shock at the mutant who stood before her. He curled his fingers, motioning for her to come to him.

"I _saw_  photos of you, _dead_." He watched Raven's skin ripple in a smooth waterfall of sapphire and flesh tones as she lost and then regained her composure. The crimson man stepped closer and thrust his hand out further. As long as they were on the club's ground floor, they were dangerously exposed. The cage fight behind him would only hold the crowd's attention for so long; it was only a matter of time before someone noticed the dead guard or the two mutants, especially if Raven lost control of her disguise again.

" _Ty mertvets._ " She repeated, this time louder and in Russian, shaking her head in disbelief.

" _Yes_ , I understand you say _first time!_ " He growled back in English. It had been nearly a decade since he spoke in her foreign tongue. He struggled to pull the words from memory, and they felt like rust in his mouth. A few more seconds of indecision passed before he finally rolled his eyes and reached down, seizing Raven. His fingernails dug into the soft flesh of her upper arm as he hauled her roughly to a standing position. She jerked away from him, her eyes wide as she gingerly touched her arm where he grabbed her as if it was the final realization that _Azazel_ was indeed warm and alive and truly standing before her. He jabbed a finger in her face condescendingly.

"Do you really _think_ ," Azazel hissed at her, this time in Russian, "that when scientists are capturing and experimenting on mutants that the KGB cannot plant _fake_ death photos to protect their best assassins? Shows how much you learned." If there was one thing he could count on Raven for, it was her multilingual talents. He knew she would understand his Russian better that he could presently use her English, and honestly, he wasn't interested in speaking English for her benefit anymore than necessary.

"Now come," he grabbed her arm again, and she flinched at the pressure of his grip, "before you get us _both_ killed."

Azazel had taken a big risk appearing directly the club floor. He would have been seen if he hadn't been careful, and he wasn't going to permit Raven to force him into making that mistake again. He had to get into the shadows so they could vanish without notice. Where he would take Raven, he wasn't quite sure yet, but they couldn't stay here. He'd already considered transporting her to one of his many hideout until he could decide what exactly to do. She had a high price on her head, one that could easily get _him_ killed if the wrong person found out that he caught her but then let her go. It might be best for him to just let his employers decide her fate, even if he already knew how that would end. All Azazel really knew was that in any scenario, he had to play his cards very carefully. In her shock, Raven didn't resist as he forced her behind the control panel. Behind them, a loud crackling radiated from the electrified cage, acknowledged by a round of bloodthirsty cheers. She cringed at the noise.

" _Azazel, wait!_ " She spun around to face him. He instinctively stepped back and put a hand to his blade. Her eyes darted to the cage before locking onto his. Without hesitating, Raven reached up and gently touched the side of his face in her hand. She then shifted only her eyes to their natural golden hue, and they glistening as she smiled sweetly at him. It was a surprisingly intimate gesture, one that caught Azazel off guard. For a second, the red mutant could see her, the _real_ her, just behind her flesh-colored mask. So many memories surfaced at once. Azazel suddenly had an urge to take Raven somewhere safe, somewhere where he could protect her and where they could be alone and forget about the past, even if just for that night. Before he could stop himself, Azazel moved his hand off his weapon to tuck a strand of hair behind Raven's ear, allowing his fingers to trail along her jawline before resting lightly on her chin. Her smile widened, and he permitted himself a small smile in return. _Maybe this night will not turn out so bad after all,_ he mused, as she leaned towards him.

"I'm really _sorry_ ," Raven whispered just as she brought her knee up between his legs as hard as she could.

* * *

Raven's new plan worked. With one swift move, she dropped Azazel like a sack of bricks. As the red mutant fell to his knees, his hand reflexively let her go, ans she bolted to the main control panel and threw the primary lever. Excess electricity danced up the tower, causing a massive surge in the amateurly rigged system. She heard Azazel swear as she darted away, and she hoped he was in too much pain to give chase. She shifted her face into that of a random bystander as she moved towards the fight cage.

Part of her really did feel bad about kneeing Azazel, but it had dawned on Raven as he pushed her into the shadows that he was planning to teleport them away from the club. In her shock of seeing him alive, she almost let that happen; the sizzle of the electric fencing called her back to reality at the last possible moment. The indigo boy - the child Azazel had _no idea_ existed - was still trapped inside. If Raven disappeared, she might as well sign their son's death warrant. _Once we get to Westchester_ , Raven thought as her eyes locked onto the boy's position, _I'll ask Charles find Azazel again with Cerebro. Maybe he can wipe Azazel's mind of all memories of me. Maybe I should ask Charles wipe my memories of Azazel and our son, too._ Raven frowned at the thought, but in her heart, she wondered if that would be for the best for everyone involved. She had never truly planned on telling the boy who she was, and she certainly never planned to tell him who his father was, given Azazel's sordid history. The indigo boy didn't need to know what kind of _monsters_ his birth parents were.

Suddenly, electrical sparks erupted overhead like fireworks. The chaos was immediate and maddening as the lights exploded and the audience darted like frightened mice towards the exits, desperate for an escape. Raven looked up at the screech of metal to see Archangel ripping open the cage fencing, making an exit just large enough to squeeze through. Armed men chased after the winged fighter as he made his getaway. When she looked back for the boy, all she saw was a cloud of dark smoke. Panicking, Raven looked around wildly but he was no where to be seen.

* * *

Azazel was officially having a _very bad_ night.

 _Stupid goddamn fucking...!_ The red mutant seethed as he tried to stand. He succeeded only after his third attempt, and even then he still felt queasy from the pain Raven inflicted. _This is what I get for saving her!_ Azazel clenched his jaw and his nostrils flared as he chastised himself for letting foolish memories cloud his judgement. He knew Raven, probably better than anyone else could know the shapeshifter. He should have seen her little _trick_ coming a kilometer away; after all, he was the one who first trained her to fight. _Looks like she's learned a few new moves since we last crossed paths,_ he thought angrily as he limped into the crowd, tracking her trail.

He had seen Raven transform her body into that of a young mohawked man as she zipped past, trying to lose herself in the crowd. He had kept his eyes on her as she ran. For some reason, she had thrown a power switch to cause an electrical surge and blow the lights. Whatever her motives were, they had worked in Azazel's favor: the dark interior and the now panicked rush of escaping bodies meant that few people would pause to notice his tail or the hue of his skin. He could afford to be a little reckless without repercussion. Azazel teleported to the catwalk and scanned the fleeing crowd for his new target. When he finally spotted her, he smiled wickedly and vanished once more.

* * *

By some sheer miracle, the indigio boy appeared outside the cage not twenty paces from where Raven stood. He was cowering at the chaos swirling around him, looking just as unsure and terrified as when he first stood in the cage. A trio of armed men were scrambling towards him. She shifted her skin back into her standby blonde disguise, this time modestly dressed.

" _Komm mit mir!_ " Raven yelled as she reached the boy, immediately linking her arm through his in case he teleported in fright. He startled at her touch and spun around to face her.

" _Wer bist du?_ " The boy gazed at her with fearfully wide amber eyes. _Her eyes._

"I'm here to save you," she answered in English, ignoring her gnawing emotions. "Can you get us outside?"

"I...I _think_ so," The indigo boy responded, his English heavily accented. He gently placed his hand over hers and closed his eyes just as the armed men were about to reach them. In a heartbeat, Raven felt her world pulled inside out as she vanished into thin air.

When the smoke dissipated, the two were standing in an alley next to the club. The boy took a wobbly step forward, nearly losing his balance. He was clearly exhausted from the horror of the forced fight and his numerous teleports. She heard a grunt behind them, and she turned to see that an armed guard had accidentally jumped with them. While the man was still disoriented, Raven quickly knocked him out and ripped off his trench coat. She draped the oversized coat around the boy's shoulders and moved him into the shadows, hiding him from the spectators pouring out of the club. They were in a bad location. Raven knew the two needed to keep moving, even if the boy was exhausted. If they stayed here, they would be spotted by the armed guards, or _worse_. She turned to say so just as the boy's eyes rolled back and he passed out, his body pitching forward. Before she could steady him, Raven heard the sound of rushing air next to her. She felt a strong hand come down hard on her shoulder and a tail wrap around her leg as she was jerked backwards.

"Not this time, _devotchka_."

She was just barely able to grab the blue boy's collar before she melted into smoke and fire.


	4. The Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Kurt is a cinnamon roll, too good for this world.

_**Riga, Latvia (U.S.S.R.) – Safe House  
** _

Teleporting with Azazel is always  _risky_. While his mutation is powerful enough to clear continents with ease, the real risk is that one never knows when they reappear if their feet will touch solid ground or dangle in the air kilometers above it. Luckily for Raven, Azazel was feeling merciful, and the mutants reappeared in the center of a small living room.

The instant they materialized, Azazel shoved Raven roughly away. She fell, a scream hitched in her throat as she tumbled the short distance the floor, her arms splayed wide in anticipation of a much longer fall. She remained on her hands and knees, trembling violently as she caught her breath. Her narrowed eyes shot daggers at Azazel, and he smirked at her reaction. Part of him relished the terror that flashed across her face before she landed on carpeting instead of toppling over a cliff. It was a good reminder for her of what he was capable of if she decided to pull another little  _stunt_  like she did at the club.

When Raven finally stood, she faced Azazel with crossed arms, planting her legs firmly in front of a large coat crumpled on the ground _._ Azazel crossed his arms as well, glancing curiously at the floor before raising an eyebrow at Raven. He had no idea why she had gone out of her way to transport a  _coat_ , seeing that she had no actual need for clothing. She was also still wearing her blonde disguise, which she certainly didn't need alone with him. Frankly, at this point Azazel wasn't even sure he  _wanted_  to know Raven's motives. Finding her slinking around East Berlin was shock enough; he wasn't in the mood for any more surprises.

"What goes on in that  _damn_  head of yours?" He snarled in Russian, breaking the terse silence as his tail lashed angrily behind him. Raven looked away, obviously nervous and rightfully so. There was an edge in Azazel's voice that he had never before directed at her. She had cost him an  _entire_  night's work, not to mention how displeased his bosses would be with his delay. It also still hurt from when she kneed him, although he was disinclined to reveal that. "You were told  _never_  to show your face here again! Now I catch you sneaking around where you do not belong?" He thrust a finger at her. "You are  _lucky_  it was me who found you first!"

" _Lucky_?" Raven spit back at him, raising her voice to match his. "Yeah, I was lucky  _until_  you showed-up! You  _almost_  cost me…!" She suddenly hesitated. Azazel narrowed his eyes; she  _was_ hiding something. Raven hardened her expression and slapped his hand away, this time jabbing her finger at him.

"Why couldn't you just  _stay_   _dead_?" As quick as lightening, Azazel's tail coiled around her neck. He really wanted to feel his hands around her throat, but he was hesitant to get within kicking distance of her again.

"Give me  _one_   _reason_ ," he hissed, lifting Raven in the air until her toes barely scrapped the floor, "just  _one_   _reason_  why I shouldn't  _cut you open_  right now!" To his astonishment, Raven and manged a small, strained laugh as she clawed at his tail.

" _Because_..." she squeaked, baring her teeth in a vicious smile, "...you'll get  _blood_... all  _over_... the  _carpet!_ " Azazel took a deep breath and looked at her incredulously, his pale eyes growing wide.

_I'm going to kill her._

He opened his mouth but before he could speak, a muffled groan sounded behind Raven. Azazel's attention darted back to coat, which was suddenly  _moving_. The red mutant startled, accidentally releasing his grip as he stepped back in surprise. Raven sank to her knees, gulping for air and rubbing her throat. Azazel silently admonished himself; he had been too focused on catching Raven to realize that she grabbed  _another person_ just as he vanished. He drew a weapon.

" _No!_ " Raven scrambled in front of the figure, throwing her arms wide to block Azazel's advance. " _Please,_ no!" There was a rare, beseeching note in her voice and he could see the fear in her eyes. She wasn't faking her panic. It was enough to make Azazel pause.

"Who the  _fuck_ is this?" He demanded irately, using his dagger to point. As the figure struggled, his coat slipped down and Azazel noticed his sequined, jewel-tone clothing.  _A cage fighter?_  Azazel realized, furrowing his brow.  _Why on Earth would she risk coming to the East for some no-name cage fighter?_

The figure manged to prop himself up on his elbows, and breathing laboriously through clenched teeth, he glanced at Raven from beneath his shaggy, dark hair. Azazel could see that his left eye was rapidly swelling shut and dried blood trailed down the side of his face. When he looked at Azazel, the red mutant cocked his head. The figure was much younger than he anticipated - he doubted the youth was even out of his _teens_ \- and there was something about the boy's face that almost reminded Azazel of himself, when he was clean-shaven and before scars and hardships marred his skin. Still crouched next to him with her arm around his shoulders, Raven looked up at Azazel. She swallowed hard and she shifted into her natural sapphire skin. Azazel's eyes darted between Raven and the youth, and he felt something akin to panic begin to stir inside him as his brain registered the uncanny similarities in their coloring. It was only when he saw a indigo spaded tail rise in the air, freed from where it had been pinned under the boy's leg, that the implication hit him in full.

Suddenly, it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

* * *

Kurt didn't know  _what_  was going on. First, he was trapped in that awful, stinging cage with the mean angel; then, the cage broke and he escaped, only to have the Pretty Lady grab him and say that she wanted to help him, but first they needed to vanish to the street. When they reappeared, someone threw a coat over his head, the Devil showed up, and suddenly Kurt felt  _really_  tired and everything went dark. Kurt couldn't remember anything after appearing on the street, so needless to say, he was  _very confused_  as to how he came to be laying face-down on the floor of a nice apartment listening to the Pretty Lady and the Devil arguing over something.  _Was this all a dream?_ Kurt bit his lip. _Did I fall asleep reading my bible again?_

But the aching in his singed hands and his bruised body felt too real to be just a dream, and the last week of his life had certainly been a  _nightmare_. Kurt vaguely remembered his last circus performance in Potsdam. A nice, older man asked to take his photo. Kurt agreed - he  _loved_  photos! - but when he smiled for the camera, he felt something sharp hit his neck, and that's when things got  _fuzzy_. He woke-up in a small, electrified cage in a very dark room. There were other caged people in the room, but whenever Kurt tried to talk to them or even just pray out loud, he was hit by the armed men walking around. He quickly learned to keep his mouth shut and just pray in his head. He was finally taken out of his cage only to be put in a box and forced to fight the angel. And now he was  _here_ , wherever here actually was.

Kurt tried to peek out of the coat, but he couldn't see much, and his vision was really blurry. He could hear the Devil and the Pretty Lady speaking rapidly in what sounded like Russian.  _Can the Devil speak Russian?_  Kurt supposed the Devil could speak any language he wanted, but he was confused as to why it sounded like he was mad at the Pretty Lady, and why the Pretty Lady didn't seem scared of him at all. Kurt stopping trying to look and closed his eyes. The light hurt his head. Kurt wondered if their raised voices had something to do with him. He tried to push himself up, groaning. Maybe this would all make more sense if he were sitting instead of lying on the floor.

Immediately, Kurt felt a pair of gentle hands around his shoulders. He looked up to see that the Pretty Lady was on the floor too, trying to help him. The Devil was staring at Kurt with his head cocked and an expression on his face like he knew Kurt, but couldn't remember his name. Kurt was sure they didn't know each other; he  _definitely_  would have remembered meeting someone who looked like him, except bright red. He looked at the Pretty Lady again and she was suddenly blue. That's when he heard a crash, and glancing back at the Devil, Kurt saw that the man was still staring at him, but had stumbled into and then landed on the credenza behind him. The red spade of his tail had upset a whole tray of glasses onto the floor.  _I bet he tripped over his tail,_  Kurt frowned sympathetically. _I trip on my tail all the time. Tails are hard._

 _Wait a minute..._ Kurt's attention snapped back to the Pretty Lady. She was... _blue!_

" _You_ …" he croaked in disbelief in the best English he could muster, "you can  _transform_. You're...you're  _her!_ " The Pretty Lady pulled her hand away, suddenly looking unsure. Kurt hoped he didn't scare her.  _But I just heard her yell at the Devil. How could she be afraid of a little thing like me?_

"I saw you…" Kurt winched, holding his bruised ribs, moving into a sitting position on the floor. "…On television, when I was little. You saved the American president. You're the  _hero_!" The Pretty Lady put her hand to her mouth, looking relieved. Kurt supposed she was happy to not have to explain who she was. He looked back at the Devil, who was now drinking straight from the clear bottle that had been next to the broken glasses.

"What's your name?" The Pretty Lady asked quietly.

"Kurt Wagner," he smiled widely, showing all his teeth, "but in the Munich Circus, I was  _The Incredible Nightcrawler!_ " Kurt cocked his head and pointed at the red man. "He is  _OK_?"

"I'm Raven," she responded, ignoring his question, "and that's Azazel." Kurt gasped but the blue woman quickly shook her head. "No, he's  _not_  that Azazel, not the one from the bible. It's just...his  _work_  name." Raven sighed and looked at Azazel for a long pause before speaking again. When she did, she seemed to be addressing the red man directly, and speaking very clearly as if she wanted him to understand something. "He's a  _friend_. He helps mutants in trouble, like I do. Azazel works the Eastern Bloc. That's why we're here."

"Then you are also a hero!" Kurt beamed happily at Azazel.

"We're  _not_  heroes," Raven corrected. The red man didn't say anything, but he was staring at Kurt as if he was simultaneously fascinated and terrified by him. Kurt was used to being stared at, so it didn't really bother him. He assumed this was probably Azazel's first time meeting another mutant with a tail, since it was actually the first time Kurt had seen another mutant with a tail and unique skin colors, just like him.

Suddenly, Kurt had an epiphany. _Gott in Himmel! Why didn't I see it sooner?_ He felt as if his chest would explode with happiness.

"I  _prayed_  for you," Kurt whispered in adoration, touching the rosary under his shirt. He had prayed, and not just during the last scary week. He had prayed his  _entire life_  to meet someone with a physical mutation like his. Now, God had answered his prayers by sending two such mutants to rescue him when he needed help the most! Tears welled-up in Kurt's eyes. Raven and Azazel both raised eyebrows and exchanged glances.

"Every night, I prayed," Kurt smiled at his saviors. "Every night I asked God to deliver me from evil, and he did. He sent you, when I needed God's grace the most. He sent me the  _heroes!_ "


	5. Medicine

_Jesus fucking Christ_ , Raven thought, nervously chewing on her fingernails, _what a shitshow._  The blue woman was perched on the edge of the bed, bouncing her foot restlessly. The only sound in the apartment was the muted hum of water and off-key singing. Kurt had been in the shower for the better part of an hour. The boy was absolutely  _enamored_  with it. Growing-up in a traveling circus meant limited access to indoor plumbing, and judging by his initial reaction, the concept of hot water appearing on command seemed downright magical.  _At this point_ , mused Raven, glancing at the bedside clock, _it would be magical if there was still hot water left._  Azazel, meanwhile, had done what he does best - disappeared.

The red mutant hadn't breathed one word during Raven and Kurt's entire exchange. A few moments after the boy declared them  _heroes_ , Azazel simply stood, smoothed his shirt and politely excused himself before vanishing. It was enough to make Kurt jump up excitedly despite his injuries. Raven was sure that Azazel's teleportation abilities were just further proof in Kurt's worldview that he and Raven were indeed messengers from God.  _At least Azazel seems to be taking this well_ , Raven consoled herself. Outside of his initial collision into the credenza, Azazel was reacting to the existence of his secret son with an almost frightening calm, although Raven was pretty sure the half bottle of vodka he chugged while she and Kurt were talking might have something to do with it. Raven didn't know what to make of Azazel's behavior, and that was certainly making her anxious. Part of her almost prefer Azazel being violent; at least she knew how to deal with that.

She had briefly considered grabbing Kurt and fleeing as soon as Azazel vanished, but the boy was too exhausted to travel and she didn't know where Azazel had taken them. It would be difficult to escape or blend in if she didn't even know where she was. She'd have to take her chances with Azazel's unpredictable temperament, if and when he returned.

Once alone, Raven had explored the apartment. It was a minimally decorated one bedroom with a kitchenette, living room, and a harbor-facing balcony off the bedroom. Raven didn't find many personal effects in the space - a few pairs of shoes, two books, some articles of  _women's_  clothing (which caused her to raise an eyebrow and frown) - but nothing that implied the apartment was lived in for more than a night or two at a time. Overall, it reminded Raven of the kind of safe houses she and Azazel used to crash when they worked together after the Brotherhood crumbled.  _A lifetime ago_ , she thought as she stood and stepped out onto the balcony, gazing at the nighttime harbor water and the shadowed church steeples.

As she contemplated her next move, Raven heard a soft rush of air in the apartment. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and discreetly made her way towards the living room. Azazel was standing the kitchenette, and he had deposited several bags on the counter. She approached him cautiously, stopping a safe distance away and leaning against the doorway. Raven crossed her arms casually while she watched him sort clothing, a toothbrush, and other personal items from the bags. Most of the clothing still boasted store tags, and looked to be in an assortment of sizes. On the small table behind him was a square cardboard box that read " _pica."_

" _Hey._ " Raven cleared her throat. Azazel ignored her and continued to unpack, ripping tags off the clothing and sorting it into like piles. His tail, however, twitched sharply at the sound of her voice. Despite his taciturn nature, Raven had learned a long time ago that his tail often betrayed his feelings. She stepped into the kitchenette, careful not to stand too close to him.

"What's all this?" She picked up a shirt and inspected it, carefully turning the tag over in her hand. She immediately recognized the writing as Latvian, the same language as the word  _pica_. At least she now had an idea of where they might be.

"Things for  _our son_ ," Azazel retorted, not bothering to look at her, "that you did not think of,  _devotchka_." There was a touch of venom in his voice.

"You know, actually I  _did_  think of this stuff, Zaz; maybe  _you_  forgot you teleported us here against our will?" Irritated, Raven tossed the shirt back on the counter, disregarding the neat piles he sorted. She was  _trying_  to be nice. "My plan was to get him safely to a hotel and  _then_  take care of him."

"What a good job you are doing, taking care of him," he grabbed the shirt and refolded it, forcefully. "Seeing that he was just fighting for his life in a  _cage_ , like an  _animal_." Azazel finally stopped and turned to face her. He regarded her for a full minute, his eyes narrowed calculatingly.

"Why is it that  _our son_  does not know who  _you_  are?"

"It's a  _long_  story," Raven sighed. At this point, she resigned herself that she would have to tell Azazel the whole story, though she dreaded it. She knew how stubborn he was, and once he set his mind about something, he wouldn't even try to see  _her_  point of view.

Suddenly, Azazel seized a chair away from the kitchenette table, and slammed it on the ground in front of him. The brute force of his movements made Raven to shrink back. He then made a dramatic show of sitting down, crossing his legs and facing her. He held out his hands in a sarcastic invitation before crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

" _Please_ ," his tail continued to lash indigently, "do  _tell_." Raven opened her mouth just as she heard the shower water finally cease. She looked nervously over her shoulder in the direction of the bathroom. Azazel continued to stare at her, waiting in an angry patience for her to start talking.

" _Please,_ not  _now_." She bit her lip and looked imploringly at her former lover. " _Please_?"

"Then  _when_?" Azazel snorted at her request. "In another  _seventeen_  years?" Frustrated, Raven closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Look, I  _promise_  I'll explain everything,  _OK_? Right now, it's best if we just don't have this discussion in front of Kurt." Azazel continued to stare at her, finally causing her to toss her hands up in the air. "Not in front of  _him_. Later.  _Please_?" Azazel stood abruptly and pushed his chair roughly back in place.

" _Later_  then," he glared at Raven, "but you will tell me  _everything_." He snatched the clothing off the counter and marched towards the bedroom, knocking hard into her shoulder as he passed.

Azazel was not happy.

* * *

Kurt couldn't have been  _more_  happy.

Not only did he get to try a shower for the first time, but when he stepped out, there were  _piles_  of new clothing laid out for him. He had never owned  _new_  clothing before. Everything he wore was a hand-me-down from his circus family, tailored by Mama Margali to fit him. Kurt didn't mind wearing used clothing, but he never, ever owned anything  _brand-new_  and just for him. He was so grateful that he couldn't stop smiling and thanking Azazel as he tried it on to see what fit. After he selected a few pieces, Azazel handed him a pair of sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt (matching also new, much to Kurt's delight) and he followed Azazel back into the living room. The red man motioned for Kurt to sit on the couch. After a brief exchange with Raven in Russian, Azazel approached him again.

"Where," the red man pronounced his words carefully, pointing at him, "where it hurts?"

"You speak English?" Kurt was excited. He wanted to  _so badly_  to ask Azazel questions about vanishing, and about life with a tail. He actually had  _a lot_  of tail-related questions.

"Little is only," the red man responded, and then tapped his ear. "Understand better."

"Azazel's skilled in first aid," Raven smiled at Kurt from where she sat at the kitchenette table, "he's better than I am. Show him where you're injured and he'll get you fixed up."

Azazel sat on the coffee table in front of Kurt and the youth held out his hands. Azazel examined his burns and gently rubbed salve on them before applying bandages. Kurt was in  _heaven_ ; the ointment felt  _so good_  on his blistered skin. Azazel looked over a few cuts on his face and his swollen eye, but Kurt managed to escape with only minor injuries and luckily, nothing felt broken. Plus, Kurt really wasn't too worried about his injuries, not even his black eye. He always healed really fast, which was great for his life as an acrobat. He was worried, however, about the  _other_  fighter. Kurt still felt incredibly guilty that he burned the angel's wing accidentally, even if the angel told him to fight back or they'd be killed. Kurt really hoped the angel hadn't been too badly injured, and that he'd be OK. The indigo boy made a mental note to include the angel in his nightly prayers, and maybe even ask Raven or Azazel about finding and saving the angel, just like they found and saved him.

After he was patched-up, Azazel brought a bottle over from the credenza and two small glasses. He sat back down, handed one glass to Kurt, and filled it from the bottle.

" _Azazel_..." There was a warning note in Raven's voice and she started to stand. Azazel shot her a look Kurt couldn't see and said something quickly to her in Russian. The blue woman uttered a defeated sigh and crossing her arms, flopped back down in her chair. Azazel turned back to Kurt and made a drinking motion.

"What is this?" The youth asked as Azazel poured a shot for himself. Kurt smelled the liquid and frowned. It didn't smell good  _at all_.

"Medicine," the red man answered and in a quick toss, finished his drink. He motioned for Kurt to do the same.  _Bottom's up, I guess?_ Kurt shrugged and sipped his glass. Immediately, it felt like he poured fire down his throat.

" _Ugh, es brennt_!" Kurt shook his head hard, sticking out this tongue as if to spit the taste from his mouth. For the first time that night, the smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of Azazel's mouth. He motioned for Kurt to finish the drink. Kurt  _really_  didn't want to, but he forced himself to drink the rest only because he didn't want to disappoint Azazel after the man had been so nice to him. Before Kurt could put his glass down, Azazel had refilled both glasses, and motioned for Kurt to drink one more. After the second shot, Azazel was actually smiling and clapped Kurt on the shoulder, as if congratulating him while Kurt coughed. After the third shot, Raven ripped the bottle away from Azazel.

"Ok,  _enough_  before you overdose there,  _Dr. Asshole_ ," Raven hissed, "he's only  _seventeen_." Azazel smirked at Raven and rolled his eyes, but only so Kurt could see. Kurt giggled; he really liked Raven and Azazel, and their playful teasing. He was also starting to feel really good, and a warm, fuzzy feeling was spreading out from his stomach to the rest of his body. It felt almost like how the liquid had burned his throat, but softer and much more pleasant.  _The medicine must be working,_  Kurt thought. He was so glad he took it, even if it tasted really bad.

"Hey, you know my age!" Kurt exclaimed, laughing. The blue woman froze and looked at Kurt with her lips parted, but said nothing. Azazel's smiled faltered for a second and he glanced at Raven. "Actually," Kurt shrugged. "I am only  _sixteen_ , but my birthday is soon. You're really good at guessing!"

Afterwards, Kurt got to eat an entire pizza while Raven sat next to him, asking him a million questions. While he ate and talked, Azazel sat at the table, cutting and sewing tail slits in Kurt's new pants while listening. Raven asked him all kinds of questions - about the circus, his family, what his favorite color was, what books he liked to read - and he told her all about his life growing up. Kurt enjoyed having an audience for his stories, and Raven asked all about his abilities too. Kurt saw Azazel smile again when he talked about learning to vanish - or  _teleporting_ , as Raven keep calling it - and Raven seemed really happy when Kurt told her he healed really quickly. It just really nice to have other mutants to talk to about growing-up as a mutant.

Eventually, Raven showed Kurt how to turn on the television and use the remote. She and Azazel quietly slipped out of the room. The youth settled back on the couch, yawning happily as he flipped through the channels. He never dreamed his night would end-up like this; it was so much better than he ever thought it could be.


	6. The Truth

They stood in the doorway, each leaning against their respective side of the frame. Kurt slept soundly on the couch, his tail twitching occasionally as he dreamed. Raven reached over and took the vodka out of Azazel's hand. The liquid burned her throat pleasantly, the way only a top-shelf bottle could. She looked at the label, shaking her head.

"I cannot  _believe_  you made him do three shots of vodka," Raven said in Russian.

"And I cannot believe you abandoned him with a traveling circus," Azazel smirked, his eyes locking onto hers, "but here we are." Raven rolled her eyes. "Besides," Azazel continued, motioning for the bottle back, " _if_  he is  _mine_ , he can handle it, and it will help him sleep even with injuries." Azazel took another drink and held up the bottle as if toasting the snoring boy."To  _medicine_."

They stood quietly, each lost in their own thoughts as they watched the indigo boy dream. After a few minutes, Azazel broke the silence.

"He really  _is_  mine, isn't he?" The red mutant continued to watch Kurt as if his every move was a source of wonderment. Raven glanced at him; never did she think Azazel would have even  _liked_  the idea of being a father.

"Zaz, just  _look_  at him," a small smile grew on her face, "and if that doesn't convince you, how about fact that he tore through that entire pizza you got?" Raven looked at the discarded pizza box, wrinkling her nose.  _Pineapple and anchovy, bleck!_ If Kurt could eat  _that_  and survive, there was no need for a paternity test. She briefly wondered if taste-buds were genetic, and was pleasantly surprised to hear Azazel chuckle at her jest.

Eventually, the red mutant began to rummage around the kitchenette quietly, pulling out a pack of  _Sobranie's_  and a box of matches from a drawer. After his interaction with Kurt, Azazel was acting far less aggressive towards her. He wasn't exactly being  _friendly_ , but it did seem like Kurt had the effect of bringing out a gentler side of Azazel.  _Good_ , Raven thought as she trailed him down the hallway, _I'll need all the help I can get.  
_

"I thought you quit?" Raven pointed to the cigarettes as she slipped into the bedroom behind him.

"I did." Azazel slid the balcony door open. He stepped into the shadows and leaning against the building, lit a cigarette. "They're not mine," he said, exhaling hazy smoke in her direction. Before she could help it, Raven frowned. A look of amusement played lightly on Azazel's face at her reaction.

"Well," Raven said, playing off her jealousy, "you really shouldn't smoke with Kurt in the other room."

"Oh  _look_ ," Azazel rolled his eyes and held out the pack, offering her one, "it's  _Mother-of-the-Year_ telling me how to live my life." Raven sighed and helped herself to a cigarette as Azazel struck a match. She melted into her blonde disguise and stood at the balcony railing, gazing at the sea. The cigarette tasted harsh and ashy.

"Nice view." Azazel only grunted in reply. Raven turned to face him, leaning against the railing. "This is way nicer than any place we ever had together. Hey," she laughed, "do you remember that shitty safe house in Minsk where we...?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Azazel interrupted her reminiscing. Raven was surprised to hear something that sounded like sadness in his voice. He looked at her imploringly, his pale eyes shining despite the darkness. "Why didn't you tell me I had a son?" The smile fell from her face.

"I didn't even know I was pregnant until I was almost three months along," Raven cast her eyes to the ground. "And I didn't find that out until two weeks  _after_  the raid. By then, I was on the run, and I didn't know how to find you."

She saw Azazel bristle at her mention of the  _raid_ \- the event that tore their lives apart so long ago. For a split second, Raven could remember her body hitting the ground hard, a scream lodged in her throat.  _I'm sorry_ , he had said through clenched teeth, holding his side, _I can't travel any further_. She remembered seeing the blood spilling out between his fingers and thinking it was almost the same color as his skin. He looked at her one last time, his eyes soulful and wild in equal measure. _Run._ That was his last word before he vanished, leaving her alone to escape into the Russian wilderness. He had saved her life. Later she was sure he would regret it when the KGB falsely accused her as the cause of the raid and its aftermath. _  
_

"Did you even  _try_?" Azazel's voice was accusatory, snapping Raven out of the memory. "Did you try to find me after?"

"I  _did_ ," Raven retorted, "for the love of God, I even took my chances showing up at the Hellfire Club to see if  _Emma_ could find you, and you know how I felt about  _her._ " Raven shuddered. Emma had been a thorn in her side for the brief time the telepath worked in the Brotherhood. "In the end, I think the  _only_  reason she didn't just turn me in was because she knew I was pregnant with  _your_ child. All Emma could tell me was that you had gone missing after the raid, and were presumed dead. I made it as far as West Germany before everything went to  _shit_."

Raven had done what she does best: she hid. Every day a new face, new name, new identity. She didn't speak more than a dozen words a day to anyone. She slept at train stations, bus malls, and seedy motels; anywhere she could slip under the radar of the men who hunted her, who accused her of plotting against them. Every chance she could, she moved towards the west, to the one place where she and her baby might finally be safe.

"I gave birth in a hospital just outside of Munich. During labor, I..." she took a deep breath, fighting the sting of the memory, "...I  _lost_  control. The doctor recognized me for what I was...I was so weak, but somehow I wrested Kurt away from him and I ran. I ran until we were were lost in the forest surrounding the city. I didn't even get a proper look at Kurt until I stopped, hours later." She remember it as clear as if it happened yesterday: the first time she laid her eyes on her son. His indigo skin, his pointed ears, his tiny tail curled around his body; he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Sitting with her back against a tree and cradling her newly-born son, Raven cried. She cried for the injustices her baby would face because of how he looked, for his father who had been unfairly taken from them, for the knowledge that she was lost and alone and afraid and couldn't be any of those things because of the little life in her arms depending on her to survive. When the morning came, Kurt's cries startled her awake from where she had passed out from exhaustion. He opened his eyes - bright and golden, like hers - and a new wave of tears began. His day-old eyes held the reflection of ten thousand possible lives, none of which she knew she could give him. She started to realize then what she had feared her entire time on the run; that he was the last part of Azazel she had left, but she didn't get to keep him. She didn't  _deserve_  him.

"Two days after he was born, I stumbled into a caravan deep in the forest. There was a woman there -  _Margali_  - she recognized that I needed help, and she took us in. She had lost her own baby a few weeks before, and she..." Raven's voice broke, "...she  _loved_  Kurt. She didn't hesitate to care for him as if he was her own child." Raven wiped her tears with the back of her hand and appealed to Azazel. "I was on the run, a wanted woman. If they found me, they'd kill him, too. I couldn't keep him. At least with Margali, he'd have a chance; something you or I could never have given him."

"Why do you write us off so quickly?" Azazel sighed and rubbed his eyes, frustrated. "We could have  _tried_."

"How were we going to raise him?" Raven pinched the bridge of her nose. " _'Here honey, take the baby; I've gotta go kill someone tonight.'_ If you haven't realized, working for the KGB is  _not_  a good place to start a family."

"Then we would have  _left_."

" _How_?" Raven raised her eyebrow. "How could we have left? It's not like they would just let you  _retire_. They're still hunting me seventeen years later! Where would we have gone?"

"I don't know!" Azazel stomped out his finished cigarette. He quickly pulled out another one and lit it. "But in all these years after you abandoned him, you never thought to look for me? To tell me? If you couldn't raise our son, did you ever think that maybe I could? That maybe I would have  _welcomed_  a child, Raven?"

"If you haven't noticed, you've been  _dead_  for the last ten years," Raven's voice was icy. "I  _saw_  those photos of you, Azazel. I saw those photos of you at Trask Industries, and I had no way of knowing they were fake and that you were still  _alive_." Raven angrily crushed out her cigarette. "Did you see me on TV in 1973? Did you?" Azazel hesitated before nodding. "Do you know why I was on TV?" After a short pause, Raven answered her own question. "I wanted more than anything to  _kill_  Trask. I wanted to kill him because it was men like him that made me afraid to show my own skin. It was men like him that made me give up my own son to be raised by a human because I couldn't hide how he looked. But more than anything, I wanted to kill Trask because I thought he had killed  _you_. So don't you  _dare_ ," angry tears spilled down Raven's cheeks as she jabbed a finger at him. Azazel looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "Don't you  _dare_  stand here and tell me I didn't  _try_ , or that I didn't  _care_!"

"Did you ever think about taking him back?" Azazel's asked quietly after a few minutes of silence.

"Once," Raven sniffled and looked away, "when he was seven, a year after I was on TV. I thought maybe I could at least take him to my brother so he'd be with  _some_  family. I tracked down the Munich Circus. He was too little to be in the acts, but I disguised myself until I saw Margali, and then I followed her until I saw him. He playing with the other gypsy children, and he looked so  _happy_. I knew then it would be a crime if I took him away from the only life he had ever known." Raven let out a bitter laugh, locking eyes with Azazel. "Isn't that rich? It was a crime that I had to abandon my son, and now it was a crime for me to come back and claim him as my own."

"At least we have him now," Azazel said reassuringly.

"Yeah, he's safe for tonight," Raven agreed, "but we don't get to keep him."

"You wish to take him back to the circus?" The red mutant raised an eyebrow, sounding alarmed.

"No, it's not safe there." Raven shuttered at her visions of the cage fight just hours before. "The fight promoters will be looking for him."

"I would not worry too much about  _them_ ," Azazel hissed, a murderous look flashing across his face. Raven didn't doubt for a second the fight in East Berlin would indeed be the last one those men ever staged. "We will keep him safe here."

" _'We'_  will keep him safe here?" Raven looked incredulously at Azazel. "Who's this  _'we'_? You know very well that I can't stay. It's only a matter of time before the KGB catches wind that I crossed into the Bloc. They'll be looking for me everywhere. I can't stay trapped in some safe house like a bird in a cage, and neither can Kurt. He's not cut out for this life, Azazel."

" _We_  are his parents," Azazel responded heatedly, " _we_  should be raising him."

" _Raising_  him? He's almost  _seventeen_. How much more  _raising_  do you think he needs?"

"He  _belongs_  with  _us._ "

"No, he  _doesn't_ ," Raven frowned. "He belongs somewhere where he can safely be a teenager and figure out things for himself." Raven threw her hands in the air. "Zaz, he deserves a better life than one on the run with me, or one being a hired assassin like you. There is still so much good in him, so much sweetness and innocence in him that died a long time ago in  _us_." Azazel opened his mouth to argue but Raven stopped him.

"You really  _don't_  get it, do you?" She shook her head sadly. "People like  _us_  don't get to have children. If Kurt ever found out who we  _really_  are, what we  _really_  do..." When she looked at him, there were fresh tears in her eyes.

"We're not  _heroes_ , Azazel. We're  _monsters_."


	7. Run

"Do you remember Tahiti?"

It was the first Raven had spoken in almost an hour, and her question caught him off guard. Azazel cocked his head, studying her curiously.

"Why do you ask?" He was seated on the ground with his back against the balcony door. Raven had long since lost her disguise and was sitting in the shadows across from him. Between them, they had almost finished the pack of cigarettes, and they had definitely finished the vodka. Azazel watched the blue woman as she absentmindedly ripped discarded cigarette butts into smaller pieces, occasionally flicking them over the railing. There were still so many things he wanted to know, but he refrained from asking. Her silence told him that she had been pushed to a breaking point. He wanted so badly to believe that she had lied about or fabricated parts of her story, but he knew Raven had told him the truth. Azazel would never admit it out loud, but part of him struggled with the knowledge that he didn't know what choices  _he_  would have made had their situations been reversed.

"No reason," she shrugged, tossing another cigarette butt. "I've just thought about it occasionally, over the years." Raven took the last cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag before offering it to him. "It's the last place I remember being really happy, and not having a care in the world."

Azazel closed his eyes, remembering. A few months before the raid, he had surprised Raven by teleporting them to Tahiti for a much needed escape from their grueling work schedules. The pair had claimed a deserted beach and for a few glorious weeks, slept in hammocks and swam in bioluminescent waters that look like the night sky shattering when then dove in, laughing and naked as they day there born. He could almost feel the sun's heat on his skin, the wet sand pressing against his back as the tide rushed in, and see the droplets of water in her hair creating rainbows when she leaned down smiling, tracing her fingers along the scars on his face.

It suddenly dawned on Azazel that it was the last time he remember being truly happy, too.

"Do you know what day today is?" Azazel opened his eyes again, changing the subject. Raven arched her eyebrow, and he held up his watch, tapping on its face. "It's October 1. At least, it was two hours ago. Ironic, no?"

It took her a moment, but her eyes lit up as the implication hit her.

"You've  _got_  to be  _kidding me!_ " Raven let out a throaty laugh as he nodded, a smile tugging his mouth lopsided. She shook her head, her auburn locks spilling over her shoulders. She sighed and locked eyes with him, very much amused. He held out the cigarette for her. "Well, since you're still  _alive_ , I guess that means technically we're  _still_  married, huh?"

"A technicality, but  _da_ ," Azazel confirmed. "Happy anniversary?"

"1964?" Raven took a drag as she counted on her fingers, shaking her head again and smirking. "That's nineteen years. What are the odds of us even  _seeing_ each other again, let alone on  _today_?  _Unbelievable_." She smiled mischievously. "Hey, I got you a secret son! What'd you get  _me_?"

"A twenty-four hour  _cease fire_ ," Azazel shot back, and the two shared their first true laugh of the evening. For a moment, it almost felt like old times.

"It's late," Raven yawned, stretching. "We should probably follow Kurt's example and get some sleep."

"We will talk in morning about what is to be done. You and the boy can take the bed," Azazel stood, offering Raven his hand. This time she didn't hesitate, and in a heartbeat, they stood in the living room. "I will sleep out here."

Azazel bent down and carefully slid one arm under Kurt's knees and the other under his shoulders. He lifted the boy easily;  _too easily_. He frowned at how little Kurt seemed to weigh. Judging by how quickly the boy had devoured the pizza early, he had been hungry, and his baggy clothing belittled how lanky the indigo boy's frame really was. Clearly, his captors had been starving him. Anger flared up again as Azazel thought about Kurt's mistreatment; he vowed that those men would pay for what they did.

As soon as he stood, Kurt sighed in his sleep and rolled his head onto Azazel's shoulder, curling against him almost affectionately, the way a small child might do. There was something so pure and so trusting about Kurt's unconscious movements that it made Azazel freeze, slightly alarmed at the unfamiliar ache it caused in his chest. Raven slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and the trio appeared in the bedroom. She peeled back the bed's covers, motioning for Azazel to lay Kurt down. For a split second, the red man almost didn't  _want_  to.  _This is absurd_ , he told himself,  _he is a teenager, not a child_. But it was the closest all night Azazel had permitted himself to come the boy, and there was a comfort in holding him that touched Azazel in a way he couldn't explain. He shook his head and laid Kurt on the bed. Raven pulled the blanket over him as the the red mutant turned quickly to leave.

"Azazel?" Raven whispered. She stood with her arms loosely crossed and her eyes unreadable. He stopped and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

"I  _am_  really sorry for earlier, when I, uh... _kicked_ you." Raven looked almost sheepish, offering him a half-smile. "And, thank you, for letting us stay here. I meant that." Azazel nodded, but as he turned again, Raven suddenly grabbed his arm. He tensed instinctively, but the blue woman merely stood on her tiptoes and before he knew it, her lips pressed quickly and lightly against his cheek.

"Goodnight, Zaz." He struggled to find his voice, and instead, merely nodded again and disappeared as soon as she took her hand away.

Azazel materialized in the living room, agitated from the rush of unfamiliar feelings washing over him. Something deep inside him was stirring, something that he thought he had long ago laid to rest. He decided to pull out the bed from the couch to occupy his hands and mind.

_He might not be mine,_ he told himself, punching a pillow to fluff it. True, it was hard to overlook the obvious: the boy had a  _tail_  and he could  _teleport_. Kurt had Raven's coloring for sure, outside of his hair, which was the same color as Azazel's. Kurt really  _did_  look like the two of them mixed together.  _And Raven..._ His cheek burned from where she had kissed him, as if her lips were made from fire. He had spent a lifetime building walls to keep people like Raven from getting inside. The only person who could even come  _close_  to riling him at this point was Clarice, and she only...

_Clarice_.

He froze and closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. He didn't even  _think_  about Clarice once that night. He knew he should probably tell Raven about her tomorrow, but he couldn't even begin to think of how he'd go about that. Azazel rubbed his face vigorously as if to shake away all his troubling thoughts. He finished setting up the bed, stripped to his underclothes, and flicked off the living room light with his tail. He laid down, his arm behind his head as he stared at the ceiling in the dark.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

In her dream, Raven was running.

_The trees were wolves' teeth, biting the moon, devouring its light. One foot in front of the other. Darkness enveloped her as she ran into the belly of the beastial forest. Breathe. Azazel wasn't coming back; somehow she knew this to be true. It was her fault he was gone. It was her fault the girl had led them to the hideout. She ran. She knew better. Breathe. She shouldn't have taken the girl, but how could she have left her behind? She pointed to the significance of the girl's eyes, the moon-shaped markings on her face._ She's one of us _, Raven said, taking the girl's hand._ Leave her _, Azazel cautioned,_ something is wrong _. She should have listened. Instead she took the girl, determined to save her. Breathe. She didn't know. How could she? One foot in front of the other.  
_

_The shattering of glass. Breathe. The flash of a knife. Breathe. Blood spilling through Azazel's fingers from where the blade had bit into him. Breathe. The rush of air. Breathe. His eyes, so bright against his skin, even in the darkness. Breathe. My love..._

Run _._

* * *

Raven shot up, gasping for air. She was clammy with sweat, and her eyes darted wildly around, trying to place the unfamiliar surroundings. A body shifted next to her, roused by her suddenly movement. She leaped from the bed, pulling the blanket with her as she flattened herself against the wall, trying desperately to...

_...Kurt, it's just Kurt, it's just Kurt, it's just...  
_

She saw the indigo teen roll onto his stomach, but thankfully, he didn't wake-up. Raven released the breath she had been holding. The night came back to her, and her racing thoughts slowed as the fog of sleep lifted. She was  _safe_. It had all been just a dream, a dream about running.  _No, that's not right._ Raven bit her lip. She hadn't been dreaming about running; she had been dreaming about the  _raid_. The blue woman sank down along the wall, pulling her knees to her chest and covering her face with her hands.

_It wasn't_ fair _._

The whole mission had been a trap from the start. They had taken out several key targets in Kyzyl. The bar should have been clear after Azazel finished, but when he slipped his arm around Raven's waist to leave, she heard a muted noise from the coat closet. Behind the door, she found a young girl with a heavy chain around her neck. The girl scurried into the corner, gazing fearfully at Raven, as if expecting a beating. The girl had pale markings cutting across her face and her eyes were an impossible shade of emerald; clear indications that she was a mutant. She couldn't have been any older than eight, and the sight of her nearly broke Raven's heart. In spite of Azazel's warning, Raven refused to leave her behind. She'd find out much later that the girl had been chipped, and it had led their enemies directly to one of the KGB's main hideouts. Azazel had just barely gotten Raven out alive before he returned for the others; the blue woman found out from Emma many months later that over a dozen of the KGB's best operatives had been killed or captured because of that raid in 1967, Azazel among them.

Raven slid her hands away from her face and looked at Kurt, who was still sleeping soundly. Over the years, Raven often wondering what happened to that little girl. She almost asked Azazel earlier on the balcony if he knew, but decided against it. She didn't want to talk about the raid and spark his anger all over again. The truth was that Raven never regretted trying to save her; Raven only regretted that she had taken the fall for something that wasn't her fault, and it had cost her everything. The blue woman stood and draped blanket over Kurt before walking silently out of the bedroom.

Raven stood at the end pull out bed, watching Azazel sleep.  _He still snores loud enough to wake the dead_ , she thought, smiling. It had always amused her that Azazel was such a heavy sleeper given that his profession required so much stealth and silence in his waking hours. Earlier, she had laid awake next to Kurt listening to the red mutant swear at and fight with the pull bed. She almost got up and offered him help, but she felt like she had pushed her luck with him too much already.

_Seventeen years_ , Raven thought sadly, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.  _For the last ten I thought I had truly lost you_. She felt the sharp sting of tears building again as she recalled the horror of seeing the autopsy photos in Trask's office. Part of her wanted very badly to lay down next to Azazel, to fold her body into his arms and forget that the last seventeen years ever happened. She reached down and tenderly brushed the hair back from his face. He stirred slightly, but did not wake.

"I wish we had never left Tahiti," she whispered, her fingers hovering just above the scar that cut across his eye. She gazed at him for a long time before turning and walking away.

Her chest was a cage, and the dove trapped inside was beating its razor wings for freedom.

* * *

"Kurt?" Raven spoke quietly, gently shaking his shoulder. The indigo boy rolled over and blinked slowly, smiling sleepily when he recognized Raven in her blonde disguise. It was still dark in the bedroom, and the early dawn light was just starting to break over the horizon. Before he could answer, she thrust a packed bag into his arms.

"Wake up. We gotta go.  _Now_."


	8. Little Sister

_He was alone in a dark room. A metal collar bit into his skin, its weight crushing. His small fingers tugged at its chain, but it would not give._   _Breathing hurt; he ached from where he had been kicked. He could no longer vanish. He was trapped, and he was afraid. He heard voices outside, a woman begging:_ please, he's just a little boy _. Light blinded him from the doorway as someone rushed in. Suddenly, soft arms enveloped him, holding him tightly. Her hot tears dripped onto his face and shoulders._

_In spite of all his fear and pain, the feeling of her arms around him made him so happy. He hugged her back, just before she was ripped away.  
_

* * *

Azazel knew they were gone before he opened his eyes. He could sense a stillness in the apartment, one that told him he was the only living thing there. He was disappointed, but given his and Raven's history, he wasn't surprised.

He lay on the pull out for a long time, trying to recapture his dream. Azazel had very few memories of his childhood before the soldiers took him. Most of his early life was shrouded in darkness, and the only light he could remember was his mother. He remembered her like one recalls a dream: in fleeting feelings, colors, and images woven together from half-forgotten memories. He could remember her dark hair and bright eyes, and her vibrant, patchwork skirt. He could remember her singing, but he couldn't hear the tune or words. He remembered the comfort of her arms, but he couldn't quite picture her face. He could remember a whisper of a name -  _Ivarr_  - that had been part of his life from long ago. He never forgot the last time she held him; even in his darkest moments, he remembered that someone loved him once, enough that he  _survived_. He hadn't thought about his mother in a long time - not really since his fever dreams when Clarice was small - but his interactions last night seemed to call these memories back to the forefront of his consciousness.

Eventually, Azazel forced himself to get up.

A quick walk though the apartment revealed that the bed was made, the clothing he had shed last night had been neatly folded, and the French press was hot with coffee. His search also revealed that his wallet had been carefully cleared of all money and Kurt's new clothing was gone. He eyed the coffee press warily. A mug, the sugar pot, and a spoon were laid out as well. A folded napkin sat halfway under the press, and he cocked his head when he noticed writing on it:

_You really think I would poison you? - XOXO - R_

Before he could help it, Azazel smirked; Raven moved through his life with the grace of a hurricane.

He took his time in the shower, washing away the stains of his emotions from last night. As he left the bedroom after dressing, his hand skimmed lightly across the bed, lost in thought when his fingertips hit something hard. Peeling back the covers, he found Kurt's rosary tucked meticulously under the sheet. Azazel picked up the sacred necklace, slipping the beads between his fingers as one might do in prayer. He had no use for religion, but he knew the significance of the rosary being left behind. The red mutant slipped it over his neck, concealing it beneath his shirt.

Azazel walked into the living room and focused on the bookshelf. He stroked his beard as he scanned the titles, rummaging around until finding An Atlas of the United States of America _._ He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen counter. Putting on reading glasses, he flipped through the atlas. Slowly, he traced the roads and rivers with his finger until he found it:

_Westchester, New York, United States of America_

She had a brother there, one that ran a school for their kind, or so Raven had once claimed he planned to do. She made a mistake last night, mentioning her brother as the person she wanted to take Kurt to back in '74. While Azazel memorized the map, he wondered what time the People's Library of Leningrad closed in the evenings; it would be a good idea to borrow some language cassettes and practice his English first. He smiled and sipped his coffee, drumming his fingers lightly on the atlas. It was somewhere to start, at least.

Azazel lost Raven once; she wasn't going to get away so  _easily_  this time.

* * *

_**Moscow, Russia (U.S.S.R.) - The** _ _**Zaytsev** **r  
** _

"Hey _Big Brother_ ," a sultry voice sang in Russian as a ring dropped on the bar in front of Azazel. It bounced once before clinking to a stop against his glass. He glanced up. A smirking Asian girl stood with one hand on her hip and the other bracing her weight as she leaned causally against the bar. A faded scar ran up the inside of her left forearm.

"You owe me a  _coke_."

"What did you do  _this_  time, Clarice?" The red mutant sighed and finished his drink. Giggling, Clarice flopped into the chair next to him, waving over the bartender. As a KGB operated bar,  _The Zaytsevr_  was one of the few public places Azazel could show his face without causing a riot. His kind were respected here, even feared.

"Oh  _nothing_." She twisted mischievously in her chair. She never did learn to sit still. "Just finished that job of  _yours_. You know, grey suit, East Berlin?" She pointed at Azazel. "He's buying," she said to the bartender, ordering a full bottle. She poured two shots and toasted their glasses, downing her drink before he even touched his. Clarice was always competitive with him, and almost as good.  _Almost_.

"You also owe me a pack of smokes," she arched her eyebrow, "and an explanation as to why you crashed  _my place_  in Riga when you were  _supposed_  to be in East Berlin."

"It's a  _long_ story." Azazel threw back his drink, making a face. For the life of him, he had no idea  _why_  she would choose Irish whiskey over Ukrainian vodka. He was sure it just to get under his skin.

"Do tell, _comrade_." She batted her eyelashes sweetly. Clarice was beautiful, and she knew it. Tall and slender, she had long dark hair naturally accented with unnatural violet tones. Crescent markings crossed her cheeks and forehead and offset her large emerald eyes, giving her an exotic, otherworldly appearance. She was also as deadly as she was beautiful; Azazel knew this firsthand, since he had trained her himself. She playfully nicknamed him Big Brother, and after Raven left, Clarice was the closest thing to family he had.

* * *

Ironically, it was Raven's departure that catapulted Clarice into Azazel's life.

After saving Raven during the raid, Azazel returned to a scene of blood and chaos, fighting until the cause was lost. He used the last of his strength to teleport away. He was too weak to find Raven, but he knew she would be fine; they had been separated before and they'd always find each other soon enough. Upon materializing, Azazel felt something grabbing his tail. Drawing his dagger, he spun around only to find the child - the one Raven saved - clinging to him. How she had found him in the madness of the raid Azazel never knew, but he did know  _something_  wasn't right. He seized the girl, twisting her arms over until he spied a pale light blinking beneath her left forearm.

"This is  _your_  fault!" he growled at her. Azazel cursed himself for not ever being able to say  _no_ to Raven. This girl had been  _chipped_ , and it had lead their enemies to slaughter them. He lunged at her but stumbled, dropping his dagger as he gasped and grabbed his side. His hand came away soaked in blood. He was wounded badly. He couldn't risk seeking a doctor; he wasn't even sure this hideout was safe, but he had to stop the bleeding before he could teleport. Ignoring the girl, Azazel grabbed a first aid kit to clean and stitch his wounds. After a while, he noticed her watching him, holding his dagger and cradling left her arm. Blood dripped down to her fingers and tears marred her face, but she hadn't uttered a sound. He would find out much later that she had cut the chip out herself. Shortly after sewing his last stitch, Azazel passed out.

It wasn't the wound that almost killed him; it was the infection that set in afterwards. Azazel became delirious as he burned with fever. Days and nights blurred. Between bouts of darkness, he saw visions: fanged mountains cutting into cerulean skies; the twirl of his mother's skirt as he chased after her; rainbows in Raven's hair as she laid smiling on a beach. He was vaguely aware at times of something wet and cool against his forehead. One day in a moment of lucidness, the girl appeared in front of him holding a large bag, clearly stolen from a pharmacy. She held up medicine bottles for him to read until he recognized one that contained antibiotics. He swallowed half the bottle before passing out again. When he woke next, the fever had finally broken, and the girl was curled tightly in a ball, asleep next to him.

It took Azazel weeks to fully recover. In spite of his initial blame and anger, the girl had risked her life to save his; Azazel vowed to keep her safe until he found a place for her. They laid low, moving to a new hideout every few days. When it was safe again to seek out surviving KGB comrades, Azazel started actively looking for Raven. It was only then when one of his bosses threw a file at him marked  _CIA_  with Raven's photo plastered across the front that the implication hit him. Azazel remembered feeling panic as he read the file, which heavily implied that Raven was a double agent for the American government, and she had  _knowingly_  caused the raid, using the girl as bait. Azazel was admonished for being swindled by the shapeshifter, and it was made extremely clear that if Raven ever appeared in the Bloc again, it would mean  _death_.

When Azazel returned to his hideout, he broke everything he could get his hands on. Eventually he slid down to the floor, and sitting against a wall, he covered his face and cried. He felt ashamed; he hadn't cried since he was a child, but the pain of losing Raven was just _too much_. As he cried, something touched him. Through his tears, he saw the girl sitting quietly next to him, her small hand on his arm as if to comfort him.

"I'm going to call you Clarice," Azazel sniffled, putting his hand over hers. "That was my mother's name." The girl merely nodded, her eyes soulful beyond her years. From that day on, Azazel threw all his anger at Raven into training Clarice as his apprentice.

It spoke volumes that Clarice's talents eventually rivaled his own.

* * *

When Azazel first learned of Raven's betrayal, part of him refused to believe it. From his years of living with her, it just didn't seem possible that Raven could have been a double agent, or willingly acted against him or the KGB. But as the weeks turned into months and years with no message or sign from her, he started to believe that the file he read spoke the truth.

As of three nights ago, Azazel didn't know  _what_  he believed anymore.

"I did you a favor," Azazel let go of these memories and faced Clarice. "Smoking is not good for you."

" _Whatever_ ," she rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue, causing Azazel to sigh.

"Sometimes I really miss the days when you were little and  _couldn't_  talk."

" _Pffff_ , I could  _always_  talk," Clarice laughed. "It just more fun listening to you talk to yourself like a  _crazy_  person.  _Hey_ ," she added excitedly, "know what I heard from my contact at Caliban's?  _The Hero_  was spotted in the Bloc!"

"Keep your voice  _down_ ," Azazel quickly switched from Russian to Chechen. Clarice looked momentarily surprised, but followed suit. Azazel only spoke in his native language when he was being deadly serious.

"Apparently she grabbed some mutant kid and was looking to smuggle him West," she confided.  _  
_

"Where in the West?"

"What do you care?" Clarice snorted, pouring them both another drink. She shot hers, but Azazel didn't move. She narrowed her eyes. "You know something you're not telling me." Azazel turned away. He tapped his fingers on the bar. He could feel Clarice's eyes boring into him, waiting.

" _Azazel_?"

"I knew Raven was in the Bloc." If there was one person he could trust, it was Clarice.

"You  _knew_?" She sat up straight, regarding him. " _How_?"

"I knew because  _I_  took her to Riga," Azazel locked eyes with Clarice.

"You...?" She dropped her voice. Even in Chechen, she danced cautiously around this topic. "Have you lost your  _damn_  mind?"

"It's  _complicated_."

"How complicated can wanting to  _not die_  be?" Clarice shook her head. "If our bosses  _ever_  find out, they'll..."

"The boy she sought passage for is my  _son_."

"You never mentioned...wait, a  _son?_ " Her emerald eyes grew wide.

"I just found out I had one, three days ago." Azazel told Clarice an abbreviated version of the night he intercepted Raven and discovered Kurt. The two sat in silence for a long time after he finished his story.

"So, what are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to the West, and I am going to find them. But, I need your help." Azazel laid his hand over hers. "I need you to cover for me, so the bosses don't know I'm gone."

"Done." Clarice nodded, squeezing his hand in solidarity.

"And, before I go, I want to find the men who set-up the fighting ring, the one my son was forced into."

"And?" She raised an eyebrow. Azazel threw back his drink.

"I want to make them  _pay_." Clarice drew her own short sword, twirling it sportively in her hand. Her smile reflected on the blade.

"Now you're speaking  _my_  language."


	9. Homecoming

_**Amtrak Train: Northeast Corridor Route, United States of America  
** _

The first time Raven fucked Azazel was in a rundown, roadside motel on the outskirts of Dallas, the same night the Brotherhood officially dissolved with the arrest of Erik Lehnsherr for the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. Angel and Janos had already run off two weeks prior, and Emma had simply washed her hands of the whole damn mess soon after her rescue. They alone chased Erik to Texas, hiding out in a motel so louche that no self-respecting police or government agent would think twice to check it. It was the kind of place that had mirrors on the ceiling and thick layers of dust on the furniture, not that Raven or Azazel particularly cared about any of the furniture outside of the bed.

It never worked between Erik and Raven. Their relationship – if it even reached  _that_  description – fizzled out a few weeks after their stand together on the beach. It seemed that no matter what, Erik couldn't, or frankly  _wouldn't_ , allow himself to become close to anyone. Raven felt their lovemaking slowly became hollow and lost, like an apology to each other for a past and a place in which neither belonged anymore.

When the smoke cleared after Cuba, the newly formed team stood in an awkward alliance, each side seeming to size up the other while wondering exactly  _what_  happened that resulted in them suddenly working together. The Brotherhood itself an idealistic mess from its start, one that would last thirteen quixotic months before ending not with a bang but the whisper of Erik's locked cell door. For the first few weeks, Raven was still afraid of Azazel and the horrors she had seen him commit. As time marched on, however, she began to see new things in him. Azazel had a dry sense of humor and he could be quite charming when he felt like it. When she finally worked up the courage to ask him for fight training, the demonic mutant displayed the patience of a saint when instructing her. The first time Raven disarmed an enemy, he smiled like she had hung all the stars in the sky; the first night they shared a bed, there was gentleness in his touch that she never would have predicted him capable of the first time she laid eyes on him.

"Where do you want to go now?" Azazel asked the morning after Erik's arrest, his fingers lightly tracing patterns in the scales on her hip. It was simple question, but a valid one. In that moment, Raven realized that she no longer had Charles to hide behind, nor did she have Erik to follow. Her eyes alighted on his; fiery amber reflected in ice blue. In many ways, Azazel's body was the most unnatural one she had ever seen. With his blood-red coloring, spaded tail, and myriad of scars crisscrossing his skin, he looked the part of a monster from a nursery rhyme; but with her own blue scales and bright eyes, so did she. Azazel was the only man who ever made her feel  _normal,_ and in all the time that she had known him, he never once tried to shelter her like Charles, or repudiate her mutation like Hank, or treat her as an affirmation like Erik. Instead, Azazel looked at Raven as his equal, something she had never before experienced from a man.

In that moment, Raven realized she knew exactly where she wanted to go, even before he asked.

"I want to go wherever you're going." She remembered placing her hand on his chest, just over his heart. Azazel merely nodded, but the corner of his mouth curled into a small, genuine smile. He traced his fingers along her side up to her resting hand, pulling her into his arms once again.

They stayed in that motel for three days; long enough to wash off the stains of everything except each other. It was the start of the three glorious years they shared that only ended when Raven fucked everything up by rescuing that little girl.

* * *

" _Um,_ Ms. Raven?"

Startled out of reminiscing, Raven turned sharply towards Kurt's voice. He was leaning over their chair divide, smiling timidly with his hands tightly clasped. His face was shadowed by his sweatshirt's hood, making his fangs and eyes seem to glow against his charcoal blue skin. Kurt had been edgy since the pair landed in Boston, still instinctively curling into his clothing when they moved through public spaces. Raven repeatedly assured him that mutants - even ones with glaring physical mutations - were much more common sights in America, and that his face and his tail would not inspire an angry mob to torches and pitchforks. She knew his reluctance stemmed from his lifetime behind the safe shroud of the circus, and that his fears wouldn't simply abate after a few reassurances. She supposed it also didn't help that she wasn't wearing her true skin, but Raven really had no choice. After '73,  _Mystique the Hero_ was practically a household name, and she couldn't risk attracting attention.

Their journey had taken a total of eight exhausting days, and surprisingly, fleeing Latvia had been the  _easy_  part. After a slight hesitation, Kurt accepted her lies about needing to leave without even saying goodbye to Azazel. Part of her burned with guilt for lying to Kurt and double-crossing Azazel, but really, what was  _one more_  lie at this point in her life? She and Azazel would never agree on Kurt's future. He needed to be somewhere safe, and that somewhere wasn't by her side or under Azazel's care. There was a time when she admired Azazel's talents - truthfully, she still knew that sometimes violence was  _necessary_  - but she wanted to give Kurt the choice as to how his life would unfold, something that neither she nor Azazel had the privilege of when they were young. Azazel just couldn't see this. Part of Raven still loved him deeply, but the mother inside her knew that her priority was keeping Kurt  _safe_.

Kurt had gotten them as far as Tallinn in a series jumps. Raven then posed as a sailor and smuggled Kurt onto a ship bound for Helsinki. It was a rough crossing, and twice they were  _almost_  discovered, but they'd made it out from under the Iron Curtain unscathed. Once in Finland, Raven tapped into her underground network, arranging passage through Copenhagen all the way to Wupperthal where she went immediately to Caliban. Slamming a wad of money on the table - generously  _donated_  from Azazel's wallet - she demanded passage to Westchester. Caliban's eyes flickered curiously between her and Kurt before he smiled and accepted her payment, not even bothering to count it. The pair stayed in a hotel while arrangements were made. Eventually, they boarded a freight train to Amsterdam, and once in The Netherlands, they and other refugees climbed aboard a Boston-bound cargo plane. Only in America, the mutants had the  _luxury_  of walking onto the Amtrak train bound for their final destination. The only comfort Raven gleaned during their entire journey was the plane ride; Kurt had become so ill from the bumpy flight that he had to rest his head on her lap. For a few brief, beautiful hours, Raven closed her eyes and held her son under the guise of comforting a fellow refugee.

"Kurt,  _please_ ," Raven sighed. Right now she was so tired, and Kurt looked so much like his father that it was difficult sometimes for her to maintain eye contact with him. She lost track of how many times in the last week she thanked God that the boy hadn't inherited his father's eyes or crimson skin. "It's  _just_ Raven."

" _Ja_ , sorry," Kurt smiled wider, his expression almost pained, "I forget." His gaze darted over Raven's shoulder and out the train window. She waited, but Kurt didn't speak. Raven lightly touched his arm and the youth jumped back slightly.

"Kurt?" Raven raised her eyebrow _._  "Did you want to say something?" Kurt nodded his head enthusiastically.

" _Ja_ , Ms. Raven.  _Um_ , sorry. Raven _?_ " He bit his lip and pointed out the window. "I believe we are here?" No sooner did he speak than the train started to slow. Raven scanned the approaching station. A hand-painted sign reading  _Westchester_  slid past as the train rolled into its final stop. She spied one Caliban's arranged black cars waiting to drive them directly to  _The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters,_  or whatever Charles was now calling the estate.

Raven hadn't set foot inside her childhood house since the day she walked away to fight a war against Sebastian Shaw. Now here she was returning, twenty-one years later and with her son, conceived with a man that she faced as her enemy that same fateful day.

 _Home, Sweet Home,_ Raven thought as they exited the train. She felt like she was going to throw-up.

* * *

_**The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, New York** _

When Kurt was twelve, the Munich circus performed once just outside Köln. He and Jimaine slipped away after nightfall, concealing themselves in pilfered showmen's cloaks and teleporting through shadows and alleyways until they stood in front of the city's famous cathedral. Kurt had never seen anything as grand as the hallowed Gothic edifice. The weeping saints and pious patrons carved into its portals and walls spoke to his very soul, telling him that he was a child of God despite his demonic appearance. Kurt had been moved to tears by the ancient church, and he never regretted sneaking away to see it, even when Mama Margali later grounded them both for two whole months.

As their car rolled up to the front gates of the  _Xavier School_ , the splendor of the grounds and the mighty building reaching into the sky reminded him so much of that cathedral. This time, however, Kurt was awed by the fact that Raven said it would be his new home for as long as he wanted.

The last week had been difficult for him. Sure, he was used to a nomadic lifestyle, but Raven's method of traveling was downright  _unnerving_. They could only move at night, she scolded him if he spoke louder than a whisper, and she never relaxed. Until the plane took off in Amsterdam, Raven always seemed to be looking over her shoulder, almost like she was expecting someone to pounce at any moment.

"Why couldn't Mr. Azazel just take us West?" Kurt braved asking one night on the ship. The conditions were deplorable; he was miserable and shivering violently as the freezing Baltic waters seeped into the steerage compartment.

"Because he can't teleport that far," Raven snapped, and turned to avoid his gaze. Kurt frowned, knowing that she wasn't being truthful. He was young, but he wasn't an idiot; Germany and Latvia were  _much_  further apart than Estonia and Finland, and Azazel had crossed  _that_  distance in a single jump. Kurt wished he could have at least said goodbye to the red man. When Raven wasn't looking, he secretly slipped his rosary under the bed sheets. He hoped Azazel would find it, and that it would convey Kurt's gratitude. Raven was quiet the entire trip, and she seemed oddly annoyed the few times he brought up Azazel. The only thing that seemed to cheer her was when she told Kurt about America and his new school. At least Raven relented and allowed Mr. Caliban to deliver a letter from Kurt to Mama Margali, Jimaine, and Stefan letting them know that he was safe and going to study aboard for a while. Mr. Caliban was even nice enough to print an extra photo of Kurt, tucking it into his letter. Kurt thought he looked rather dashing in his photo.

He didn't like the plane ride across the Atlantic  _at all_. He felt sick the whole time and had to keep his eyes closed. His first impression of America as he stumbled out of the cargo plane was that everything was really bright and it smelled funny. Raven also told him he didn't have to hide his skin or tail anymore because Americans were used to seeing mutants, even ones like him. He was still shy, and part of him wondered why, if he didn't need to hide, was Raven still not showing  _her_  blue skin?

Now that Kurt was  _finally_  here, he suddenly felt skittish. He sat outside the Headmaster's Office, bouncing both feet nervously as he waited. His tail was practically turning corkscrews, and it had already knocked a few pictures askew on the wall behind him. Raven had told him that this was a special school for mutants, but so far, Kurt hadn't seen  _anyone_  who looked even remotely like him. All the students on the quad and in the hallways looked positively  _normal_. He hadn't spied one tail, or a hand with three fingers, and why was he  _always_  the only one with fangs?  _And why isn't anyone else here…?_

"Hi there! You're…?"

" _Blue_!" Startled, Kurt yelled out his last thought and stood quickly, knocking a painting off the wall. A petite Asian girl in a bright canary coat shrank back slightly from the force of his yell. Kurt grimaced as the painting hit the floor hard. Luckily, the frame remained intact.

"Well hi… _Blue?_  Is it? I'm Jubilation," the girl popped a pink bubble of gum and held out her hand, "but my friends' call me Jubilee."

"I'm  _Kurt_ , not  _blue_." He leaned the painting up against the wall, frowning. " _Nein_ , I am  _blue_ , but I am also  _Kurt_." Jubilee raised an eyebrow, a soft smile growing on her face. Kurt took a deep breath and tried again. "I am the color blue, but my name is Kurt." At this point, he was sure his cheeks were  _purple_  from stammering. He cast his eyes to his feet, running a hand nervously though his hair. He was sure she was  _laughing_  at him.

"Hey," Jubilee said quietly, putting her hand gently on his arm. Kurt flinched slightly; after the cage fight, he was extra wary about being touched by strangers. But when he looked at her, there was nothing but kindness in her eyes. She held up her free hand, and Kurt watched in wonderment as tiny sparks crackled and danced off her fingertips.

"It's Ok. Everyone is super nervous when they first arrive. Give it a few days, and you'll be so happy you're here, I  _promise_." Kurt nodded, beginning to feel his nervousness receding. "Professor X asked me to take you on a tour of the school while he sorts things out with your friend Raven. Would you like that?"

" _Ja_ ," Kurt nodded again, this time smiling. "I would like to see it."

"I really dig your jacket," Jubilee touched his sleeve. "It's totally boss!"

" _Danke_...er, thank you," Kurt beamed. On their last night in Europe, Raven left Kurt alone in the hotel to eat and watch a TV movie. She returned an hour later with a few new articles of clothing, mumbling something about him owning clothes that weren't all black. He really loved his bright red jacket, partially because the color reminded him of Azazel, although he didn't share that observation with Raven.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Jubilee popped another bubble and winked at Kurt, linking her arm through his. "Let's go check it out!"


	10. English Lessons

_**Abandoned Warehouse, Undisclosed Location (U.S.S.R.)** _

" _Get. Up_."

The sound of splashing water caught Clarice's attention. From where she sat, she a clear view of Azazel standing over one of their  _guests_ , holding an overturned bucket. The man sputtered and rolled pathetically in the icy puddle at the red mutant's feet, his hands bound tightly behind his back.

 _"Get_ ," Azazel snarled again, adding a vicious kick to reinforce his command. " _Up_."

Clarice yawned and began braiding her hair. They had been at the warehouse for several hours already, but she had to hand it to Azazel; he showed far more restraint dealing with these fight promoters than she would have. When they caught the first one, Clarice rushed in with her short sword drawn. The only reason he lived - well, lived for a  _while_ , anyways - was because Azazel pulled her back at the last minute, preventing her blade from penetrating too deeply into the man's throat. Azazel hadn't been  _kidding_  when he said he wanted these men to pay, and it worked in their favor, too. They worked over that first guy for a few hours and by the end, he  _gladly_  gave up his comrades responsible for torturing Azazel's son. Clarice had chided herself as Azazel disposed of that first man. Her rash actions would have stalled their mission had Azazel not stopped her. Once again, she was sharply reminded of the impetuousness of her youth; operatives don't live as long as Azazel without learning to use caution to their advantage. Despite being on her own for four years, Clarice was still grateful for everything her Big Brother continued to teach.

 _Big Brother_ , she smirked, tying off her braid. Azazel wasn't her  _real_  brother, of course. She had taken to calling him that because he reminded her of the actual brother she once had. Clarice had very few memories of her family. She was so little when her parents were killed that she barely remembered them, but she did have fond memories of her older brother Tuan. She had looked-up to him, and he protected her until the South Vietnamese Army fractured what little was left of her childhood.

Clarice closed her eyes and pictured Tuan's kind, smiling face. She had a name once, too: Tien. When she was about twelve, Azazel took her to the People's Library in Leningrad after hours, and she secretly researched her birth name while he browsed. Tien translated to something like  _celestial being_  or  _fairy_  in her native Vietnamese. For as long as Clarice could remember, she always had her facial marking and brilliant emerald eyes; her name had been aptly given. Tien, however, belonged to her long-ago life. In this life she was  _Clarice_ , and she liked that name. It bound her to Azazel, the only person who hadn't abandoned her. Tuan and Tien lived now in her memories; the only place where she could truly keep them  _safe_.

She had been no older than six when soldiers burned her village, claiming her people were aiding the Viet Cong rebels. Tuan and many young men were killed during the ensuing firefight as they tried to protect the women and children. Clarice was dragged away by the very soldiers who were supposed to free the Vietnamese people. Instead, these treasonous men made high profits raiding villages under the guise of war to capture and sell young girls - especially  _exotic_ mutants - on the black market. Clarice had been sold time and time again until she ended up in the border town of Kyzyl as the property of some low-level Russian gang. The men who traded in human flesh were immoral and cruel. They did things to her,  _horrible_ things during her years in servitude that still gave her nightmares to this day. It was a sheer miracle that Raven and Azazel found and freed her so many years ago.

Despite her having known Azazel for sixteen years, the red mutant was in many ways still a mystery. She didn't know much about his past, but then again, he didn't know much about Clarice's past either. She and Azazel seemed to have an unspoken agreement to live in the present and look to the future, and that was good enough for her. Clarice hadn't talked much when she first came under his tutelage, mainly because her Russian was near non-existent. She kept quiet for almost two full years, listening to Azazel and the other operatives talk before she learned enough Russian to speak back. Now Clarice was fluent in seven languages, although she preferred Russian. Most of her friends were younger KGB operatives, and that was their common language.

As she watched Azazel, Clarice's thoughts drifted to the new spanner thrown into her world: Kurt Wagner. She wanted very badly to meet this long-lost son, but Azazel made it quite clear that wouldn't happen for a while. He had to find and deal with Kurt's mother first. Clarice would be a fool if she thought that was going to be quick, or easy. From the little she knew about  _Mystique the Hero_  - which was mostly hearsay from older operatives who remembered her time with the KGB - the woman seemed like a real  _live wire_. Azazel refused to talk about her, and Clarice pushed her luck already when she even mentioned Raven at  _The Zaytsevr_. Azazel wasn't an emotional man; she had seen him cry exactly once, back in the first few weeks she had known him. She knew those tears had been shed for Raven, and for whatever power the woman had held over her seemingly invincible mentor.

From the corner of her eye, she saw that the man was finally standing, and Azazel motioned for her.  _Showtime_ , Clarice smirked, moving quickly towards them.

"So, you like fight? Then I give you  _choice_ ," Azazel barked at the man in broken German. He drew a blade and advanced quickly, slicing through his ropes. The man cringed, rubbing his bleeding wrists.

"You fight and win, I  _nyet_ kill you." Azazel held out his hands up to show his sincerity. The man's eyes grew fearfully wide as he sized-up the red mutant. Azazel wasn't a large man, but he had an imposing air about him, and his demonic features certainly worked to this advantage. The red mutant smiled and made a  _tisk, tisk_  sound, holding up a finger and shaking his head.

" _Nyet_ me," he stepped aside, pointing at Clarice, "you fight  _her_."

" _Her_?" The fight promoter asked, clearly confused by the turn of events.

"Hi!" Clarice smiled brightly, waving at him. Her German was far superior to Azazel's. "My name's Clarice, and I'm going to be  _kicking your ass_  today."

"A  _woman_?" Amusement briefly flicked across the man's face.

"Don't worry," Clarice sneered, stepping into the light. "I'll be  _gentle_."

" _Nein_ ," the man's face hardened when he saw her in full. "You're one of those  _freaks_. You'll use your powers!"

" _Nyet_  powers,  _nyet_  weapons. Hand-to-hand is only," Azazel answered, and Clarice made a show of laying her short swords on the ground. Humans were always afraid she'd use her mutation in a fight, as if they were  _worth_ it. Clarice raised her fists and stood at the ready. Without warning, the man charged.

 _Well, he didn't take long to decide._  Light on her feet, Clarice easily side-stepped his attack, and as he threw his fist punch, she crouched and swept his leg. The man cried out as he fell hard. Clarice towered over him, baring her teeth in a snarl.

" _Get up_."

The man spun and seized both her legs, toppling her to the ground. She cursed; she was expecting him to stand, but she should have anticipated his move. Clarice rolled quickly onto her back as the man scrambled for purchase. She wrestled her left leg free and brought her heel swiftly down on his face. The man let out a guttural scream, releasing her to claw at his ruined nose.

 _This really isn't a fair match_ , Clarice mused as she jumped back to her feet. The man followed suit, his blood flowing freely down his chest. She met his next advance and countered with series of calculated punches and kicks. To Clarice, it wasn't a fair match because she was a  _born fighter_. It wasn't chance that led her to seek out Azazel during the raid. She had been young, but she was tired of being beaten and abused. There was a fire in her, one that wanted to fight back against the men who murdered her family, who snapped a collar on her neck, defiled her, and sold her like an animal. She watched Azazel fight during the raid and she made a choice. Later, when he was sick with the fever, she stole medicine not because she  _cared_  for him - that would come much later - but because she wanted him to live so that he would teach her.

The man grabbed Clarice from behind and wrapped his arm around her neck, squeezing with all his strength. Clarice dropped low and reached over her head, seizing the man's shirt collar. She then kicked backward as hard as she could, shattering his knee. When he instinctively loosened his grip, she flipped him over her head, throwing him to the ground and knocking the wind out of him. Before he could move, she snatched one of her short swords from the ground and brought it to his neck, pinning him. The fight was over.

"So you thought you could beat me just because I am a  _woman_?" Clarice breathed hard, her eyes glittering.

" _Please_ ," the man begged, coughing blood and hold his hands in a position of mercy. " _Please._ I have a  _family_."

" _So. Did. I._ " Clarice hissed, plunging her knife as he screamed. Azazel stood to the side, his arms crossed as he watched her intently, but he made no move to dictate the man's fate. After a moment, Clarice held her bloody blade over the man's face. She had cut deep enough into both his cheeks that he would have permanent scarring.

"Every time you look in the mirror, I want you to remember that a  _freak_  spared your sorry,  _pathetic_  life." She narrowed her eyes, her voice filled with rage. "And tell your comrades if we ever  _hear_  of another fight ring again, the  _Devil_ will come for them."

* * *

_**Leningrad, Russia (U.S.S.R.) - Safe House  
** _

" _Goddamn it!_ " Clarice frowned, looking at the dark stain on her leg. "I  _just_  bought these pants!"

"You know, black does  _nyet_  show blood," Azazel snickered. "In English, please? _"_

"Thanks for the fashion advice  _Calvin Klein,_ " she retorted in English, giving Azazel the finger. He chuckled and bit into his sandwich.

"Go," he motioned with his free hand, his voice muffled from chewing. "Take something from...ah,  _moy shkaf_? _"_

 _"'My closet.'"_  Clarice answered, licking her fingers as she put down her sandwich. The pair had finished their self-assigned mission and were presently at Azazel's safe house, eating and practicing English at his request. Clarice was far more fluent than Azazel ever was, and he was still having trouble with it. He almost wished Emma was still around so she could just pull his English memories to the forefront of his mind.

To an outsider, it might seem almost  _psychotic_  for the two to be casually eating after the events of their night. It wasn't that Azazel necessarily  _enjoyed_  killing - actually, he was fairly numb to it at this point - it was that their work was just  _business_. And, like all businesses, there were  _rules_. No incentive could tempt Azazel to kill a child or an innocent woman, or even unlucky family members of his targets, and Clarice held the same standards. In his younger days, Azazel had been far more reckless, and he didn't think twice about killing soldiers and government men as enemies. Tonight's work had been personal; it was payback for what those men did to his son, and to other mutant children whose families had no power to fight back. He felt justified dismantling the Eastern fighting ring.

Azazel was proud of Clarice. She had fought well, and after the first man, she had displayed great restraint and tactical thinking.  _She's going to be better than me pretty soon_ , Azazel thought admiringly as she walked back into the room, now wearing a pair of borrowed sweatpants.

"So," Clarice flopped down on the couch, eyeing him curiously, "I get to crash here, right? While you're away?"

" _Nyet._ I have two jobs in Minsk. I need you there."

" _Minsk_?" Clarice almost spit out her food. "For  _real_?" Azazel nodded and she thew her head back dramatically. " _Ugh_ , I  _hate_  the house in Minsk! That place smells like a  _sock._ "

"It does not smell like  _sock_." Azazel frowned, looking almost annoyed. "Where do you think of these things?"

" _You_  smell like a  _sock_ ," Clarice mumbled under her breath.

"Remind me, again, why I  _put_  up with you?" Azazel sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Because I'm  _fucking_   _delightful_ ," Clarice snickered and motioned to his sandwich, "and because I make fantastic  _bánh mì,_ that's why. Hey," she ceased laughing, her tone now serious. "Are you worried about seeing Raven again?"

"It is... _slozhno?_ Complicated?"

"That seems to be your favorite word lately, you know that?" Azazel merely shrugged off her comment and continued to eat. The truth was that if he could just hate Raven, this whole damn situation would be  _easier_. He had, in fact, hated her for years until he actually saw her a few weeks back. Now, part of him wanted to take her into his arms, while another part of him wanted to  _strangle_  her with those arms. Things really were  _complicated._

"What's you plan, at least?" Clarice finished her sandwich and settled back against the couch, propping her head up with her arm, facing him. "You can't just show up and grab Kurt."

"Technically I can," Azazel said smugly, causing Clarice to roll her eyes.

"You know what I  _mean_ , Azazel."

"Plan is to talk to this brother of Raven's, to tell him  _my_  side." Azazel paused, thinking carefully. "He is telepath, so he will see that I tell him truthfully. From little I know of him, he seems like reasonable man. Then, I will see Kurt, and I tell him the truth about being his parents. I give him choice to come with me. I will  _nyet_  abandon him, like his mother."

"Do you think Kurt will want to come with you?"

" _Da_ , I think so, that he will want to be with family." Azazel looked earnestly at Clarice. "Would you  _nyet_  want to be with family, if you had choice?"

"You are my family," Clarice said quietly, before offering a lopsided smile. "And you'll always have me, Big Brother."

" _Da_ , that I do, Little Sister. And," Azazel smirked, "you are  _fucking_   _delightful._ "


	11. The School

_**The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, New York** _

Charles Xavier wasn't exactly what one would call  _happy_. He wasn't happy that his sister - whom he hadn't seen in  _ten years -_ arrived unannounced two months earlier with a new student in tow, demanding that he be placed in classes even though the semester was nearly half-finished. He wasn't happy that this new student, while being a genuinely kind, eager-to-please young man, suspiciously resembled an old teammate from Raven's missing years, one who Charles remembered mostly for the man's exceptional violence, erratic loyalties, and near murder of two of his original students. He certainly wasn't happy that Raven dodged answering any questions pertaining as to why,  _exactly_ , this young man not only had several identical mutations to her old teammate, but also nearly identical blue skin and golden eyes as  _Raven_  in her unmasked state, which - despite being  _mutant_ and _proud -_ she flat-out  _refused_ to wear anymore.

And now, Charles was  _especially not happy_  that Raven's old teammate was standing in his office, arms crossed and tail lashing irritably, as he demanded again to see the very sister that Charles suddenly had a hell of a lot of questions for himself.  _Raven_ , he thought as he watched the man scowl,  _what have you gotten yourself into_ this _time?_

Unfortunately, Charles had a  _pretty good_   _guess_ , and it was enough to almost give him a nosebleed.

The red mutant had appeared about ten minutes earlier, unannounced and certainly uninvited, causing quite a stir with the students on front entry monitor duty. Charles was in the middle of a philosophy lecture when Jean frantically called to him telepathically as he simultaneously felt a wave of fear move through several students emanating from the main entrance. Putting an older student in charge so as to not rouse additional concern, Charles raced from his classroom to find the intruder leaning against the doorway and looking mildly annoyed at the young mutants amateurishly attempting to block him. Charles could feel relief flooding off the Jean Grey when he arrived on the scene. The windows and paintings were vibrating from her emotion-driven telekinesis.

_Professor! What should we...?!_

_It's alright Jean_ , Charles replied mentally after a quick scan of the situation. The last thing he needed was for Jean's powers to escalate any more from fear.  _He doesn't seem to want us harm; I think he just wants to talk._ The first thing Charles noted upon arriving was the small pile of weapons laid at the man's feet. A brisk read of Jean's mind revealed that the red man had made a show of disarming himself in front of the students. By the man's initial actions and present body language, Charles guessed that he wasn't here to cause trouble; he wouldn't have simply  _walked_  in the front door and dropped his weapons if he intended to wreak havoc on the school.

At least, Charles was taking a leap of faith in hoping this was the case.

He forced a smile and wheeled himself towards the man cautiously, as if approaching a feral animal. The man's expression perked, and uncrossing his arms, he quickly walked to Charles. As they awkwardly shook hands in a goodwill gesture, Charles attempted to read his mind, but his thoughts swirled like wisps of clouds, nearly impossible to capture. It had been the same with Raven's ward Kurt Wagner - as a precaution, Charles read the minds of all new arrivals - and this difficulty seemed to be a pattern with teleporters. Their ability to almost be in two places at once made reading their thoughts difficult at best, even for Charles.

"I think we'd both be more... _comfortable,_  if we spoke in my office?" Charles asked as he held the man's hand. He concentrated, sending an image of his office into the man's mind. In a heartbeat, the two materialized inside its mahogany walls. Charles quickly sent a telepathic message to Alex Summers, who was temporarily assisting at the school, cluing him in to the unexpected visitor and asking Alex to stand guard outside as a precaution. With so many youngsters around, Charles had to put their safety above his.

The red man - who called himself as Azazel - eventually took a seat, crossing his legs and folding his hands on his lap while he stared patiently at Charles seated behind his desk. Charles sighed inwardly. Reading the man's mind was near impossible and his English was challenging; all Charles could ascertain for certain was that Raven had something of his that the man wanted back, and as Charles watched his spaded tail flick next to him in frustration, he could astutely guess without using telepathy of what that something might be. Only after Charles established for absolute certain that Azazel would not lay a finger on  _anyone_ , did he send a mental call to Raven first, and then Kurt, to join him in his office. He thought it best for them to clarify why the man had abruptly decided to drop by.

"Charles, this had better be..." Raven's voice faltered and she gasped at the sight of Azazel when she entered moments later. She staggered back, a trembling hand darting to her mouth and the other bracing against a chair. The red man stood quickly and Charles could feel waves of anger rolling off him, but kept his word; Azazel did not move one step towards Raven. He merely balled his fists at his side and jutted out his chin, staring her down as if calling her out on a challenge that he had won fair and square. Seconds later, blue and black smoke swirled elegantly into Kurt, who stood oblivious to the room's tension, clutching his maths notes and smiling brightly.

All it took was one look at Raven's gasp, one look at Azazel's triumphant sneer, and one look at Kurt who stood like some flag of truce between them for all the dominoes to fall neatly into place. Charles closed his eyes and rubbed his face vigorously with both hands.

No one ever told him being a schoolmaster was going to be anything like  _this_ ; perhaps he should have gone into accounting like his mother always suggested.

* * *

There were very few things Kurt didn't  _love_  about the  _Xavier School_. In the two months since he had become a student behind its hallowed gates, he made many new friends, attended classes like a normal teenager, got to see  _Star Wars_  and visit an American mall, and he finally found a place where he didn't feel like a total outcast (although he was still the only one who was blue...and had a tail...and of course, the  _fangs_ ). And the  _library_! Kurt had always been an avid reader, but books came few and far between in a traveling circus. The  _Xavier School's_  library had a seemingly endless collection of classics at his fingertips - Treasure Island, Robinson Crusoe, The Once and Future King - that made the arduous journey from Europe worth it for the literature alone.

The headmaster was honestly one of the kindest, most generous people Kurt had ever met. After his initial tour with Jubilee, Kurt sat with Professor Xavier to discuss his studies and the school rules. At first, Kurt bashfully expressed that he couldn't afford to attend such a grand academy, but the man smiled and waved away his concern. He told Kurt that foreign students qualified for a  _special scholarship_  that covered all their expenses. The only thing asked of Kurt - asked of all students - was to contribute by helping keep the school clean, taking turns preparing communal meals, and assisting with classes and tutoring. Kurt quickly found himself acting as a German and French tutor, as he was native in one language and fluent in the other. He also worked in the library a few days a week with Jubilee and Jean, his two best friends. All students took turns during laundry, janitorial, and cafeteria duties, which he often arranged to work with his friend Scott.

All in all, the  _Xavier School_  was as dream come true.

The only thing that was not ideal, ironically, was Raven. Ever since their arrival, Kurt had barely seen his savior, and the few times they crossed paths, she always seemed moody or annoyed. Kurt wasn't sure if he had done or said something to upset her on their journey to the school, but her avoidance of him didn't even give him the chance to ask.

"She's Professor X's sister, did you know that?" Jubilee whispered one day during biology lab when Kurt was lamenting over a recent cold interaction with Raven.

" _Wirklich_? Um, really?" Kurt was shocked. In all the times she talked about the school on their voyage, she hadn't once mentioned that her  _brother_  was the headmaster. The personalities between the siblings were night and day.

"I don't understand. Why wouldn't she...?"

"Focus  _students_ ," Professor McCoy gently reprimanded as he moved past the pair, tapping on his clipboard. "You're working with sulfuric acid and we don't want you blowing up the lab,  _again_." Jubilee mumbled a sheepish apology while Kurt offered a lopsided grin. They hadn't actually blown up the lab - just set fire to  _small_  part of it - and  _that_  had been a complete accident (and mostly  _Scott's_  fault, anyways). Kurt's thoughts drifted away from their previous lab error back to Raven. Why wouldn't she have mentioned her brother? It seemed like a strange thing to hide. Kurt thought back to her erratic behavior after they left Latvia, and he suddenly wondered if she was hiding anything else.

His concerns about Raven faded into the background a few days later, and Kurt was just happy to be at the school. Every day that he could move freely, laugh loudly, and simply be  _himself_  without fear of prejudice was a  _fantastic_  day as far as he was concerned.

Today, however, was an  _especially_  fantastic day.

Kurt and Scott had been in study hall, whisper arguing over who shot first - Han or Greedo - when Professor Xavier summoned Kurt telepathically. Kurt was surprised; the man had only done so once to check in on him during his first week. Kurt told Scott they'd talk later and raised his hand to be excused before walking outside the room to teleport.

Kurt appeared seconds later in Professor Xavier's office, smiling widely and clutching his homework. His smile fell slightly when he saw that both the headmaster and Raven were present, and looking at him rather concerned. Kurt hoped he wasn't in trouble; he couldn't think of anything he might have done wrong. From the corner of his eye, he saw movement.

"Mr. Azazel!" Since arriving in America, Kurt's thoughts had drifted from his  _other_  savior. But now, here the man was again, and Kurt was  _thrilled_. Azazel smiled when his eyes met Kurt's. The indigo youth started moving to greet him. Before he taken two steps, a hand latched onto his shoulder, halting Kurt in his tracks.

"Kurt,  _leave_." He turned towards Raven, but the woman wasn't even looking at him. Her eyes had flickered into amber, and were locked onto Azazel, almost like she was expecting something bad to happen.  _Something weird is going on,_ Kurt thought as he frowned.

"But Raven, I  _just_ …"

"This isn't a  _discussion_. You need to leave,  _now_." Kurt huffed and lashed his tail. He was getting tired of Raven's erratic behavior. The woman suddenly turned Kurt around to face her. The look of concern in her eyes was palpable, and for a second, Kurt felt guilty for being mad. At this point, Professor Xavier was rubbing his face, sighing loudly and not looking at anyone.

"What is going on?" Kurt asked imploringly.

"Nothing!" Raven answered quickly while Azazel rolled his eyes. "It's... _p_ _rivate_. You were called here  _accidentally._ " Raven pushed Kurt towards the Professor's desk and quickly opened a side drawer. The Professor started to protest something about  _petty cash for emergencies only_  but Raven ignored him, producing a wad of bills. She thrust the money into Kurt's hand hard enough to make him shrink back. When she looked at him again, she was smiling.

" _Here_!" She smiled wider as Kurt arched his eyebrow. "Go to the mall! Go see a movie, or something."

"Raven?" Kurt looked at the money and frowned. "This is $400...?"

"Then take some friends!" Raven responded with a bit too much enthusiasm. Kurt bit his lip and looked over her shoulder at Azazel. The red man held his gaze for a few seconds, but then nodded as if he too was giving Kurt permission to leave.

For some reason, Kurt felt defeated as he disappeared.

* * *

Before the last tendril of smoke dissipated, Raven sent a mental plea to Charles. Seconds later, Azazel's eyes fluttered and he sank to his knees before slumping to the ground. Raven let out the breath she had been holding as he started to quietly snore. Charles pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You better have a  _damn good reason_  for asking me to…"

"Kurt is my son," Raven interrupted quietly.  _There was no point in hiding it any longer, not from Charles_. "And, I'm sure by now you guessed who his father is."

"Oh _,_ " sadness flooded his periwinkle eyes, "oh,  _Raven_." She turned away, both loving and hating Charles for his unrelenting pity. "I began to suspect as much," Charles shook his head, "but why didn't you just  _tell_  me?"

"I wanted to, I really did." Raven felt her lip tremble. Truthfully, she wanted to tell Charles the day they arrived, but couldn't find the words. Now that Azazel tracked them down, he forced her hand. "It's just...I don't want Kurt to know."

" _Why_?"

"Because it's  _complicated_."

"I cannot keep Azazel asleep  _forever_ , Raven." Charles winced, placing his fingers against his temple as the man stirred. "It's hard enough as it is already."

"Can you…" Raven bit her lip, and gazing sadly at Azazel. She could feel the tears building _._ "Can you just take away all his memories of me and…?"

"Absolutely  _not_!" Charles said forcefully. Raven stepped back, surprised by his outburst. He ran a hand quickly through this hair, clearly agitated. When his eyes met hers again, they were hard and distant. "Raven, I am  _sorry_ , but I did that to someone once and I have regretted it terribly ever since. I vowed  _never_  to use my powers to do that again." He glanced at Azazel and sighed. "No, we need to have a serious discussion about this. I'm going to release him now." With that, the red mutant startled awake, his eyes darting around in confusion as to why he was suddenly laying on the floor. When he looked at Raven, he growled, scrambling to his feet.

"So help me  _God_ ," Charles hissed, freezing Azazel in his advance. "If you break your promise and lay  _one finger_  on her, I will take away all memories of how your mutation works." Panic briefly flashed across Azazel's face when Charles released him and Raven crossed her arms, smirking.  _Good old Charles_...

"The same goes for you,  _dear sister_." Raven opened her mouth but Charles cut her off. "Unless you want to be blue for the rest of your natural life, you better  _sit down_  and  _listen_." Raven slowly nodded as she took a seat in the closest chair, facing Charles. From the corner of her eye, she saw Azazel do the same. Charles had never  _threatened_  her before. He stared at them both in calculating silence before addressing them.

"I am the headmaster at a school that  _protects_  children and keeps them  _safe_ ," Charles took a deep breath, "and I intend to continue to provide such an environment for  _my_  students. I will  _not_  tolerate  _anyone_  - family or otherwise - taking away the sanctuary of this school. Now, we are going to have a _little chat_ about what both of you are going to do, so _start talking_."


	12. Silver Screens

_**The Saw Mill Mall Movie Theater & Arcade, White Pines, New York** _

_2 Hours Later..._

"So, you have no idea what the deal is,  _huh_?" Jubilee asked as she snatched a handful of Kurt's popcorn. Jean glanced back from the row in front and shushed Jubilee, prompting the Asian girl to teasingly stick out her tongue. Kurt sighed, picking at his popcorn. He had wanted to see  _Flashdance_ for weeks, but now he was too distracted to pay attention. His mind kept drifting back to the events that unfolded earlier in Professor Xavier's office. Something really wasn't right, and it certainly wasn't  _nothing_  as Raven insisted. This seed of negativity in his otherwise positive world bothered Kurt deeply, especially since he couldn't shake the feeling that it had  _something_  to do with him. _  
_

"Azazel helped rescue me from East Germany," Kurt whispered. "Raven told me they were  _friends_ , but now I'm not so sure..." Jean sighed loudly and this time Scott glanced back, making a pleading face at his friends. Kurt smiled in an awkward apology for being disruptive. He knew Jean was still shaken from her unexpected encounter with Azazel earlier, and she didn't really mean to be so short with them. Sometimes when Jean's mutation got the best of her, she withdrew and became sullen for a few hours, almost embarrassed that she couldn't better control it. He was sure Jean was also dreading possibly having another  _awful_  nightmare, which too often happened on days when her telekinesis got out of sorts. He really couldn't blame her; the few times her psionic dreams woke him were  _terrifying_ , and he couldn't even  _imagine_ being trapped in one until the Professor could rouse her. Scott was rather fond of Jean, and Kurt knew his friend was just trying to help her feel better. Jubilee rolled her eyes and tugged on Kurt's sleeve.

"Come on Crawler; it's  _presto magico_  time." Kurt teleported the pair discreetly to the back row so they could talk without interrupting the movie. He'd have to see  _Flashdance_ another day.

"I just don't understand why Raven became  _so_   _upset_  that I was there, and then Azazel seemed happy to see me, but then agreed with Raven that I should leave? It's like I am being  _punished_  for trying to talk to either of them," Kurt appealed to Jubilee. "And Raven got  _frustrated_  if I asked about Azazel on our journey to America, so I just stopped mentioning him or asking about her past. I just don't get why she would be mad. They  _both_  asked about my life after they rescued me; why wouldn't it be fine to ask about theirs?"

"A lot of mutants don't like talking about their pasts." Jubilee looked down at her hands as tiny sparks ignited between her fingers. "Not everyone had fun growing up in a circus with an  _accepting_ adoptive family like you did. Remember, Professor X as always says to let other mutants talk about their lives  _if_  and  _when_  they choose."

" _Ja_ , I know, I know," Kurt pouted. "I just wonder why all the secrets. I also wonder..." Kurt bit his lip and turned his gaze to the floor. " _Nein_ , it's  _stupid_."

"You wonder what, Crawler?" Jubilee took a sip of her soda, eyeing at him curiously.

"I just wonder, sometimes,  _maybe_..." Kurt took a deep breath and turned to face her, his expression timorous. "I wonder if I might be somehow  _related_  to Azazel, you know? Because of our tails, and our ability to vanish?" To his surprise, Jubilee didn't laugh at his admission; instead, she seemed to consider it seriously, tapping her finger on her chin as she mulled it over.

"Well, you both sure do look alike, and you both teleport the same way from what you've told me," Jubilee replied. "But," she held up a finger to accentuate her point, "remember last week in biology, when Dr. McCoy said there's no proof yet that mutations are transferable, or inherited? It's probably just be a big old  _coincidence_. I mean, look at Scott and me. We both create and expel energy from our bodies, but we're not  _related_. And, both Jean and Professor X are telepaths, but they aren't family, either. Wait, didn't you say Devil Dude was Russian?"

"He speaks Russian, so I assume  _ja_?"

"Well, there you go," the Asian girl shrugged, "maybe it's an Eastern European thing. You two are the only mutants from that far across the pond, and you never met another mutant in Europe before Raven and Azazel. Who knows? Maybe y'all got tails over there, and you just didn't get the chance to see anyone else with one." Kurt nodded at her conclusion; maybe Jubilee was right. Besides, if he and Azazel were somehow related, surely he or Raven would have said  _something_.  _I'm probably just overthinking the whole situation_ , he thought.

Kurt had fantasized about having a family - a real, blood-related family - for as long as he could remember. He never admitted to Raven during their travels that, after saw her on TV, he'd lay in bed at night dreaming that  _Mystique the Hero_  was actually his long-lost aunt who would one day come to take him to his  _real_  family, who had to give him up as a baby to protect him from some evil. It was a silly, boyhood fantasy, and it wasn't because Kurt wasn't grateful for his adopted family; he loved Mama Margali and his siblings Jimaine and Stefan, and they never once treated him like he wasn't a member of their clan. But, growing-up looking so different made him desperate to meet  _someone_  he would truly relate to.  _Mystique the Hero_  was the first person - the  _only_  person, actually - who gave him hope that one day he'd meet another mutant who could understand his unique struggles.

Kurt always wondered about his birth parents: who they were, what they looked like, and most importantly, why he wasn't with them. As a child whenever he asked Mama Margali where he came from, she would smile and tell him that she found him in a basket on a riverbank, just like Pharaoh's daughter found Moses. Kurt was her gift from God after her third child was stillborn. Kurt stopped believing in his fantasy long ago, but the spark of wanting to belong always remained. That night in Latvia when he finally met other mutants, he allowed himself to dream again.

One day, he'd find out where he really came from, and who his family was; until then, he'd could continue to dream.

* * *

A short while later, Jubilee and Kurt exited the theater, chatting happily as they walked towards the arcade to wait for Jean and Scott.

"Can you believe that dance scene at the end?" Kurt exclaimed, preforming a clumsy pirouette. "Such beauty! I wish I was that graceful!"

"Give yourself  _some_  credit Crawler," Jubilee chuckled, playfully zapping Kurt's tail as the spade slapped against her arm during his mock twirl. "You're  _way_  more graceful than me, and I don't even have a tail to blame it on, so..." Suddenly, an older teen walking past collided hard into Jubilee's shoulder, causing her to drop her soda. The cup erupted, splashing the dark, sugary liquid everywhere.

"Oh,  _man_!" Jubilee frowned as she watched a stain soak into her shirt.

"Watch where you're going,  _freaks,_ " the young man sneered at her and Kurt.

"Um,  _you_  actually walked into  _us_?" Kurt replied, confused. The young man who hit Jubilee was quickly joined by three older boys, none of whom looked particularly  _friendly_. The group eyed the mutant pair disdainfully, prompting Kurt to swallow nervously. Even in America, he was used to the stares, sometimes even being pointed at, but this was the first time he felt actively  _threatened_. He had a bad feeling about these teens.

"Hey look! The  _Banana's_ got a talking _monkey!_ " A second teen snickered, before a third boy saluted Kurt and put on an exaggerated German accent. " _Und_  he isz a  _Kraut_!  _Heil Hitler_!"

Kurt clenched his jaw in anger. There was no need for them to be such  _jerks._ He and Jubilee weren't doing anything wrong, or anything to provoke them.

"Look," Kurt held up his hands in a goodwill gesture. "There is no need for name calling. This is all just a  _misunderstanding_..."

"My father fought in the war so  _immigrants_ and  _freaks_  like you couldn't just show up and take advantage of America."

" _What_?" Now Kurt was really confused. "No one is taking advantage..."

"Come  _on_ ," Jubilee mumbled, seizing Kurt's arm and pulling him away. "Let's just  _go_..."

"Go where?" Scott suddenly appeared next to them, his arm around Jean's shoulders. He eyed the group of teens calculatingly, his lenses glowing like coals as he did. While Scott's glasses did a great job controlling his mutation, sometimes when he was angry, the lenses flared red. "What's going on,  _fellas_?"

Kurt could feel heat emanating from Jubilee's hands where she clutched his arm. Just like Jean, whenever Jubilee was upset, her powers became more difficult to control. It was times like these that Kurt was glad his mutation wasn't heavily tied to his feelings. The only time he accidentally teleported when when his allergies were really bad, or something suddenly startled him.

"Oh great, more  _freaks_ ," the last boy stated, rolling his eyes dramatically. "This mall is for  _normal_  people. You don't  _belong_  here."

"Hey  _sweetheart_ ," the leader of the group lifted up his sunglasses and looked Jean up and down appreciatively. "You're  _way too pretty_  to be hanging around with this  _riffraff_. Wanna go out with a real man?"

" _Actually_ ," Jean smiled sweetly and held out her hand. The teen's sunglasses jerked out of his hand and dangled in the air above his head. The boys gasped while Kurt and Scott started giggling as the lead teen jumped up trying to grab his glasses while Jean kept moving them just out of reach. Eventually, she let them drop to the ground.

"I rather  _like_  my present company, thank  _you_  very much."

" _You_   _fucking_   _bitch_!"

After that, everything happened _so fast_.

Kurt never knew who threw the first punch, but suddenly, the indigo boy was sprawled on the ground, his jaw aching something fierce. Two of the boys had jumped Scott, who was in a similar predicament on the ground trying to fight off their kicks and punches. Kurt was vaguely aware of Jubilee and Jean screaming, and he looked up just in time to see the leader's fist aimed directly at his face. He rolled quickly, managing to dodge it. Unfortunately, his tail moved like a whip as he rolled, accidentally slicing his attacker.

" _He cut me_!" The teen screamed, holding his face. Blood seeped between his fingers.

"I'm  _sorry_! I'm  _sorry_!" Kurt teleported to his feet. The boy stood in front of him, bleeding. Kurt's heart sank and he reached out to help.

" _Don't touch me_!" The teen shrieked and looked at Kurt fearfully, as if he was a  _monster_. A small crowd had gathered from the arcade, and Kurt suddenly had a flashback to the cage match.

" _Nein_! It was an  _accident_! I didn't mean  _it_!" Kurt grabbed his tail and held up its spade as if that would explain everything. "See? It was only my stupid  _tail!_ "

"He has a  _knife_!" A bystander yelled.

"Someone call the  _cops_!" Another echoed.

Notes of panic rose in Kurt's chest and he fought the urge to curl into a ball and vanish. Next to him, he could hear Scott struggling, and Jean crying.  _I have to grab everyone_ , Kurt thought.  _I grab everyone and get them out to the car_. The indigo boy stepped turned and seized Jean's arm, then moved towards Scott and Jubilee. Suddenly, there was a red-hot flash of light and Kurt cried out, releasing Jean as a searing pain burned his arm.

" _Shit_ , my  _glasses_!" Scott yelled, his hand covering his left eye where the lens had shattered. Before Kurt could recover, fireworks erupted all around them. Jubilee stood in front of her friends, her face set in determination as she created a barrier of white-hot sparks between the mutants and their attackers, forcing the aggressive teens and the crowd to step back. Kurt couldn't help but be impressed; he had never seen Jubilee really unleash her powers, and there was a terrible beauty in her display.

"Jean, you grab Scott," Jubilee yelled over her shoulder. Jean seized Scott's shoulder and she grabbed Kurt's outstretched hand tightly. "Kurt, you grab me. Now, let's  _go_."

* * *

Seconds later the four appeared outside the theater and near their car. Kurt release the girls and fell forward, caught by Jean at the last minute. He'd never transported  _three_  people at once before, especially not while frightened and injured.

"Well, this evening certainly didn't go how I  _expected_ ," Scott panted, his breath frozen in the cold December air. He was still covering his broken lens while Jean supported Kurt. "Is everyone OK?" Jean and Jubilee nodded. Kurt tenderly touched his burned arm and winced.

"I'm really  _sorry_  man," Scott grimaced. "That was a total  _accident_."

"I know, it's OK," Kurt smiled weakly to assure him. "I'll be fine in a day or so."

"You did great getting us here Kurt," Jean squeezed his shoulder affectionately. Kurt nodded, trying to catch his breath. Jean smiled at Jubilee. "And Jubilee, whatever you did back there...that was  _brilliant_." The Asian girl smiled, but still looked a bit shaken from the experience.

"Jean, think you drive?" The redhead nodded and Scott tossed her the keys. She held up a hand and floated the keys into her outstretched hand.

"I'm a terrible catch, remember?"

"Actually," Scott smirked, "I think you're a pretty  _good_  catch."

"Oh  _barf_ , you two," Jubilee snickered. "You know, I can drive  _too_ , Scotty-Boy."

"Yeah, but I already had one brush with death tonight. I'm not in the mood for  _another_  so soon."

"Ha ha ha,  _Mister Two Speeding Tickets_..." Suddenly, the ground began to quake. The four teens looked at each other in alarm; all around them the trees, lamp posts, and buildings trembled violently, kicking up a swirl of the light dusting of snow in the air. Before anyone could even scream, the tremor passed. Car alarms blared loudly in the aftermath, triggered by the quaking.

"What was  _that_?" Kurt asked, shaking himself. He was utterly spent, and wasn't in the mood for any  _more_  surprises that night.

"I'm pretty sure that was an  _earthquake_ ," Jubilee replied. "We'd have them all the time when I was a kid in California."

"An  _earthquake_?" Scott frowned. "Here? In New York?"

"Something doesn't feel right," Jean shuddered. She shook her head, and her hair tumbling like flames around her shoulders. "We need to get back to the school and talk to the Professor."

The four teens drove back to the  _Xavier School_  in silence, not even playing the radio. For the second time that night, Kurt felt utterly defeated.


	13. Family Matters

_**The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, New York** _

_2 Hours Earlier..._

Charles closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, slowly counting backwards from ten for what felt like the  _hundredth_  time. For the past hour, he had desperately tried to get Raven and Azazel to cooperate, but thus far, every attempt at a civil discussion rapidly deteriorated into a Russian screaming match. The two were at each other's throats, pointing fingers and throwing hands in the air, leaning dangerously close to one another's faces while they argued. Frankly at this point, he wasn't sure how the pair had managed to stop yelling at each other long enough to even  _have_  Kurt. Listening to them was like watching a bad Soviet soap opera.

Clearly, Azazel was struggling to communicate in English, and Charles couldn't keep pace with their Russian; Raven was the only one capable of managing all the languages being tossed about. Unfortunately, this left Charles in the dark as to what  _they_ planned to do concerning the welfare of  _his_  student. No matter what Raven and Azazel's personal troubles were, Charles needed to make sure Kurt's best interests were at heart.

Eventually, he decided that  _enough_  was  _enough_.

" _Quiet_! Both of you!" The pair ceased bickering and turned their attention to Charles. He motioned for Azazel to take a seat as he wheeled towards him. "I'm going to  _help_  you, but you're going to have to  _trust_  me."

"Make me in sleep again, all promises  _nyet_!" Azazel threatened, jabbing a finger at Charles as he took his seat.

"I swear I will  _not_  do that again," Charles shot a nasty look at Raven and she crossed her arms, refusing to meet his gaze. "Please, just close your eyes and try to relax; hopefully, this will only take a few moments." Charles placed two fingers against his temple and concentrated. It took the red man several minutes to calm down before Charles could even start working.

Shifting through anyone's memories is difficult, let alone those of a teleportor. Charles concentrated, moving cautiously through the shadows and smoke that comprised Azazel's thoughts. As with anyone, Charles tried to be gentle, and to not pry into any more memories than necessary to complete his work. He greatly respected people's privacy, and from the little he knew about Azazel, he didn't really want to accidentally encounter images of people tumbling to their deaths, being gutted or  _worse_ : his sister in a  _compromising_  position. As he moved deeper through Azazel's thoughts, a series of images flashed in Charles' mind as if he was watching a picture show: the gleam of metal from a sword; a pretty girl with bright green eyes laughing mischievously; a glimpse of Kurt, his face clearly bruised while he touched a rosary and smiled through tears; Raven, younger and sapphire skinned, wearing a halo of wildflowers and a white dress. Charles was startled by the image of his sister. After listening to them fight, he would never have guessed that Azazel held any memories of her that were this serene. In this memory, Raven was smiling happily, and she looked so very  _beautiful_ _._ Charles suddenly wished he had told Raven more often how beautiful she truly was, before they part ways on that beach in Cuba. He couldn't remember the last time since that he had seen her smile and actually  _mean_  it. Reluctantly, he moved away from the memory of Raven and continued his work.

"Alright, that should just about do it," Charles sat back, removing his fingers and opening his eyes. "How do you feel?"

"What do you mean, how do I  _feel_?" The red mutant shook his head, scoffing. "How do I feel, he asks?" He muttered to himself, annoyed. Suddenly his eyes lit-up and he looked at Charles, unconsciously touching his mouth as he did so.

"I speak better,  _da_?" Azazel narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What did you do?"

"All I did was unlock a few memories; you now have access again to your fluency from years ago. I hope this helps."

"Thank you," Azazel nodded curtly to Charles. He then turned and pointed a finger accusingly at Raven. "She stole  _my_  son!"

"He's  _my_  son too, you red  _jackass_!" Raven leaped up from her chair, jabbing her finger back at him.

"You abandoned him as baby, now you want to keep him for yourself. Is  _my_  son! I deserve to know him too!" Azazel stood to match her, his face now inches from hers.

"If you think for one  _second_ ," Raven hissed, clenching her jaw, "that I'm going to stand here and let you take him back to  _Moscow_...!" The two continued to spar verbally over the fate of their son.  _Fantastic_ , thought Charles, as their voices escalated.  _I just gave this soap opera subtitles._

"Since you two don't seem to want to  _cooperate_ , we're going to do this  _my_  way," Charles interrupted sternly. He concentrated, freezing Raven and Azazel in mid-fight. "In a few seconds, I'm going to release you, and you both are going to _sit down_  and  _listen_  to each other for a change." When he released them, both stepped back, each retaking their seats. Raven crossed her arms tightly, scowling and casting her eyes to the floor. Azazel stared boldly at Charles, his tail lashing irritably.

"Azazel, we'll start with you, seeing that you're technically a  _guest_  and Raven has  _declined_  for the last two months to tell me what, exactly, was going on in  _my own_ school, " Charles nodded to the red man, who in turned glanced smugly at Raven. The blue woman opened her mouth to protest, but no sound came out. She put her hands to throat and turned to Charles, looking at him wide-eyed and confused.

"Oh my  _apologies_! I forgot to mention," Charles smiled sweetly at Raven, "that since you're both so  _fond_  of interruptions, neither of you will be physically able to talk while the other one speaks. You are going to listen without interrupting, and then you will have your say. Do I make myself understood?" Raven glowered at Charles and gave him the finger.

"That means ' _yes_ ,'" Azazel added helpfully, smirking at Raven. "I wish I had such a trick to use on her years ago." At this, she turned towards Azazel and repeated the gesture. "See? She  _agrees_  with me!"

" _Azazel_..." Charles warned. The red mutant put up his hands to show this commentary was in jest.

Charles (and Raven, to a lesser degree) listened patiently as Azazel told his side of the story about meeting Kurt for the first time in Latvia. Charles was glad the man didn't delve too deeply into his and Raven's history; he didn't want to know what misdeeds his baby sister had been up to before 1973, during the  _darker_  years of her life, especially since she had spent quite a bit of that time with Azazel. After he finished talking, Charles turned to Raven, and permitted her to tell her story while Azazel sat muted. During the whole process, Charles regarded their individual predicaments thoughtfully.

"Do you want to know what I think about all this?" Charles asked quietly when Raven finished. He held up a finger to stress his next point. "I'm not going to lock your voices, but know that if either one of you interrupts me, you'll find yourself battling a  _migraine_  for three full days."

"Kurt is, by all means, a wonderful young man and dedicated student. He is kind, he adores helping his peers, and he has made several close friends his own age, something he hasn't had the opportunity to do before coming here. Every day I see him gaining more confidence, becoming more comfortable with his appearance and abilities, and it has been nothing short of a  _pleasure_  having him at my school these last two months." At this admission, both Raven and Azazel smiled proudly.

"However," Charles took a deep breath and continued, "seated in front of me are Kurt's parents, both of whom are too busy fighting with each other and playing tug-of-war with their son to consider what really is the best course of action for  _him_." Both mutants looked away guilty this time.

"Raven?" Raven's amber eyes alighted to Charles, but her expression was unreadable. "I think you did the right thing by bringing Kurt to the school. This is a good, safe environment for him in which he can learn and grow, and he wouldn't have been safe back at the Munich Circus." Raven nodded, smiling softly at her brother's approval.

"However," Charles continued, "I also agree that, as Kurt's father, Azazel absolutely has the right to be a part of his son's life."

"But  _Charles_..." Raven protested.

"I am  _not_ finished," Charles held-up his hand, silencing her outburst. He turned to Azazel. The red mutant lifted his head, waiting patiently for Charles's to speak. "I know you're not happy that Kurt is here, far from where you reside, but under  _no_   _conditions_  will I allow you to remove Kurt from this school and take him back to the East."

"You cannot stop me," Azazel threatened, "if I choose to do this."

"You are right, I cannot," Charles calmly replied. "But, know this: if you take Kurt, I will hunt you down and I will not stop until I find you. I will bring Kurt back here myself if needed." A smile slowly grew on Azazel's face and he tipped his head respectfully at Charles.

"It is good to hear that you would do this, protect my son."

"I want to believe that people can change, and that you do not mean anyone harm by coming here, not even Raven. I want to believe that you come out of a desire to get to know Kurt?"

" _Da_ , this is correct."

"Then I'm prepared to extend my hospitality and allow you  _temporary_  lodging here so you may do so..."

"Charles,  _no_!"

"...On the condition," Charles shot a look at Raven, "that you do not reveal to Kurt who you really are until my sister agrees to do so as well." Azazel sat back and blinked rapidly, processing his statement.

"But he is..."

"Yes, I am fully aware of the fact that he is  _your_  son," Charles implored, "but he is also my  _sister'_ s son, and he is  _my_  nephew. While I might not agree with keeping him in the dark about who his parents are, it's important to Raven and you two need to learn to  _compromise_  for the sake of Kurt's well being. So," Charles sighed, "that is the deal. Azazel, you can remain here for the time being as you do not reveal to Kurt who you are. Raven, you have to understand that eventually, Kurt deserves to know the truth about who you both are. In the meantime, you two need two work on getting along for Kurt's sake. Agreed?"

Both looked slightly defeated, but nodded in agreement.

"Well, it could be worse," Charles sat back, smiling at their resolution. "At least you're not married. Could you  _imagine_?"

"Reminds me," Azazel snapped his fingers and reached into his jacket, pulling out a folded manila envelop. "Here," he said, tossing the envelope at Raven, who had to put up both hands catch it before it hit her face.

"What's this?" She raised her eyebrow. Inside was a thick set of documents, written in Russian.

" _Divorce papers_ ," Azazel growled. "I have marked where you sign,  _devotchka_."

"Oh  _bloody hell!_ " Charles looked exasperated. "Is there anything  _else_  you want to tell me?"

"Charles," Raven demanded, clutching the papers and scowling at Azazel, "give me a  _pen."_

" _I am not a marriage counselor_!" Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. "Whatever problems you two have, you need to figure it out  _between yourselves_  and keep it away from Kurt and my other students. I will not..."

Suddenly, the entire office began to quake violently. Raven, Azazel, and Charles looked at each other in alarm, speaking at once:

" _What..._?"

" _An earthquake_?"

" _My students!_ "


	14. Compromise

Raven paced the length of her room like a tiger stalking in a cage. Charles dismissed them about thirty minutes earlier, just after after the mysterious tremor rocked the mansion. It didn't seem to cause much damage - from what she saw, only a few books slipped off the shelves and a water glass shattered - but the event deeply troubled Charles. He mumbled something about  _pisonic origins_  as he waved them away, headed no doubt to Cerebro for further investigation. Raven bolted from the office without evening glancing at Azazel, and almost collided with Alex on her dash out.  _Let him show Azazel to his new lodgings,_ she seethed as she ran up the stairs two at at time. Raven wasn't  _pleased_  with this whole situation, not one  _bit_.

 _Idiot_ , she admonished herself;  _what was I thinking, mentioning Charles that night in Latvia?_  She knew Azazel was sharp and latched onto details quickly; she was sure her foolish admission was how he figured out to visit Westchester in the first place. Despite their somewhat coerced  _agreement_  regarding Kurt, Azazel's presence at the school was a liability for them both. Raven stopped in her tracks and rubbed her face vigorously with both hands, sighing loudly in frustration.

The thing that bothered her the most was that Charles and Azazel were right: Kurt did deserve to know the  _truth_. But, just because Azazel was ready to step-up as a father didn't mean that Raven was ready to be anyone's  _mother_. Sure, she had her moments of nurturing, but deep down inside, Raven felt like she'd just screw it up and disappoint everyone yet again. She had solid reasons for entrusting Kurt into Margali's loving arms.  _I was protecting him_ , she reminded herself;  _I was not abandoning him_. Raven couldn't bare the thought of Kurt -  _sweet_ ,  _innocent_  Kurt - knowing she was forced to leave him because of a botched KGB assignment that put a price on her head, or that in the years prior to his birth her job had been assassinating targets alongside his father. What would happen to Kurt if he found out his parents were coldblooded  _killers_? Raven had spent the last ten years rescuing mutants to atone for these sins - for abandoning her son, for not going back to find Azazel, for shooting Erik instead of killing Trask, for leaving her own brother broken and bleeding in the sand - but it wasn't enough. It would  _never_  be enough, and she didn't understand why Kurt needed to know any of it.

 _And Azazel_...Raven frowned, pulling her hands away from her face and unconsciously sliding them to her stomach. Ever since the day she walked away from Kurt, she felt hallow, like an empty vessel for all the dreams of her life that could have been. Her eyes drifted to the crumpled divorce papers on the nightstand, and her mouth set harder.

There was a time, long ago, when she was young and naive and would have  _wanted_  to raise Kurt with Azazel. Once, about a year after they married, she had hid from their friends in  _The Zaytsevr's_  bathroom, clutching a home pregnancy test like a cross. In her whole life, Raven never wished for a child, and they'd never even discussed the possibility. The moment the test read  _positive_ , she was surprised she felt happy in spite of her trembling hands. She loved Azazel, and he loved her; surely together they could be the safe, accepting family that neither of them had the luxury of as children. Two days later, however, Raven's blood came with a vengeance. She never even had the  _chance_  to tell Azazel - he had been away on assignment until the morning she miscarried - and she hid her cramping and pain behind the lie she had the flu. It was the only time she actually ever lied to him, and it  _hurt_. It hurt more when, despite being exhausted, Azazel went of his way to take care of her, bringing her chicken soup and moving the TV into the bedroom, refusing to leave her side until she felt better.

 _What the hell happened to us?_  She and Azazel were certainly never perfect _;_ like all couples, they argued over trivial things, but shortly after the yelling ceased, they'd always be wrapped up in each other again whispering apologies and promises and concessions. This time around, it was just all screaming.  _That man is so goddamn stubborn_ , she thought; not that she imagined they'd resolve their current arguments how they used to, but  _still_. Raven just felt like he was refusing to even consider  _her_  side of this situation.

Suddenly, she heard a familiar  _BAMF_ behind her. Raven rubbed her eyes without turning around. She wanted to be alone, and certainly didn't have the energy for  _another_  fight.

"In seventeen years, is it really  _so hard_  to learn to  _knock_ …?" Raven's voice trailed away when she turned to see Kurt standing meekly behind her, not Azazel as she had expected. He kept his eyes on the floor, but held-up both hands in an apologetic surrender.

"I'm  _sorry_ , I...I was  _not_  thinking!" Kurt vanished just as she reached out to him. Seconds later, she heard a soft rapping at her door. She shook her head and moved quickly to open it. Kurt stood in the shadows, wringing his hands and looking rather unsure of himself.

"May I come in,  _please_?" Raven swung the door wide and he entered. He stood awkwardly, keeping his head bowed so that his shaggy hair covered his face. She could tell instantly that he was  _hiding_  something.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" Raven crossed her arms.

"I,  _uh_ , I want to  _apologize_."

"Kurt,  _no_." A flame of guilt burned in her. "You have  _nothing_  to apologize for." Before he could continue, she walked over and quickly put her hand on his chin, turning his face into the light. His lip was bruised and swollen, and fresh blood seeped from a cut on his cheek, just below his eye.

" _What_   _happened_?" Raven gasped.

" _Nothing_." Kurt pushed her hand from his face, trying downplay his injuries.

"Kurt," this time she gently touched his shoulder. There was a semi-healed burn on his arm, not unlike a burn she once accidentally received from Alex years ago during training. "Tell me what  _happened._ "

"I got into a  _fight_ ," he mumbled abjectly, unable to meet her eyes.

"A  _fight_?" Anger flared in her that someone would dare touch her son. "What  _fight_? With  _who_?"

"Some jerks at the mall. But it  _wasn't_  my fault!"

"Let me go get Hank...er,  _Dr. McCoy_ , he can treat your..."

" _Nein_!" Kurt's eyes snapped up, wide with panic. "I  _don't_...I  _don't_  want anyone to know!"

"You're hurt and I can't..."

" _Nein_!" Kurt pleaded. The fear and embarrassment on his face was heartbreaking. " _Bitte_?" Raven dropped her head in defeat and nodded.

"Raven, I came here because I wanted to say I was sorry for anything..."

"Kurt,  _stop,_ " Raven held up her hand. "Just,  _stop_. You have done  _nothing_  wrong. It's  _me_  who should be apologizing to  _you_. I have been terrible since we got here, and I made you feel like it was your fault, and I'm  _sorry_. You're a great kid, and I shouldn't have been projecting any personal issues onto you or anyone else. I'm really sorry. Can  _you_  forgive  _me_?"

"I...," Kurt blinked rapidly, processing her statement. Eventually, he gave her a lopsided, surprised grin. " _Ja_ , wow I was not expecting...Raven, I forgive you." Seconds later, his smile fell. "I missed Azazel, earlier, didn't I?"

"You didn't miss him," Raven sighed. Kurt was going to find out soon enough, anyways.

"What?"

"Azazel's still here. He's actually going to be staying here, for a little while, at least."

"Really? Where is he? Can I see him?"  _Maybe if I take Kurt to visit him_ , Raven pondered as Kurt's tail wagged happily,  _he'll see it as some kind of a peace offering_. If Azazel was going to be staying at the school, she might as well get on his  _good_  side, especially if she wanted him to keep her secrets safe.

"It's rather late," she glanced her bedside clock. When she looked back at Kurt's sullen expression, she smirked.  _Oh, fuck it._  She laid her hand on Kurt's uninjured arm.

"Well, I guess we can go see if he's still awake. At least he can patch you up, if you won't see Dr. McCoy." Kurt nodded eagerly, and in spite of her misgivings, Raven found herself smiling; Kurt's excitement could be downright infectious.

"Can you take us to the fifth floor corridor, left wing?"

* * *

Azazel stood in the middle of his room, looking rather uncomfortable and out of place. A young man named Alex had taken him to the room, glaring at him the entire walk there. He felt like he recognized Alex from somewhere, but he couldn't quite place  _where_. By the way the young man scowled at him, Azazel decided it was probably best not to ask.

The bedroom Charles allotted was more than sufficient, but the idea of him staying at the school was  _odd_. Azazel was used to a life on the run; he never set-up a permanent residence anywhere, and rarely stayed in the same place for more than two or three weeks at a time, even when Clarice was young.  _I_ _'m doing this for my son_ , he reminded himself, although he certainly wasn't happy with the compromise of not telling Kurt who he really was.  _That girl is so goddamn stubborn_ , he thought; not that he entertained the idea they'd resolve their present arguments like they used to, but  _still_. Azazel just felt like she was refusing to even consider  _his_  side of this situation.

As he stood looking at the bed and wondering why there were so many  _damn_  pillows on it, he heard a soft knocking at the door. Azazel was wary; besides Raven or Charles (and Alex), he didn't know if anyone else knew the room was occupied, or that he was in fact its occupant. He wasn't in the mood to see either Raven or Charles, but the red man sighed and resigned himself to opening the door at the second, louder round of knocking. Azazel hated  _playing nice_  for other people's sake, but he had to start making  _some_  sacrifices. Out of habit, he opened the door only a crack, and frowned when he saw Raven illuminated in the opening. Before he could tell her to go away, Kurt's smiling face suddenly appeared inches from his own.

" _Surprise_!" In a heartbeat, Azazel vanished, reappearing on the other side of the bed with both of his short swords drawn.

"I told you that was a  _bad_  idea," Raven muttered, shaking her head as she pushed the door open. "He doesn't  _like_  surprises."

"Well,  _I_  like surprises," Kurt said brightly as he trailed in behind her. Azazel was breathing hard and felt like his heart leaped into his throat. At the sight of Kurt's wounded face, he dropped his weapons and appeared in front of the indigo boy.

" _Mal'chik_ , what happened to your face?" Azazel turned to Raven. "What happened to his face?"

"He got into a fight."

"A  _fight_?" Azazel clenched his jaw in anger. "What  _fight_? With  _who_?"

"I'll tell  _him_  tell you. First, though...?" Raven motioned to Kurt's injuries. Azazel did a quick examination; thankfully, these injuries were slight compared to the last time he saw Kurt.

"I need bandages," he tilted Kurt's face with his hand. "Ice, too, would be helping." Raven nodded and fetched adhesive bandages and a pair of scissors from the attached bath.

"I'm going to the kitchen; I'll be back shortly." Azazel motioned for Kurt to take a seat on the bed after Raven left. He started cutting the bandages into strips for butterfly stitches.

"Your English has improved," Kurt happily observed.

" _Da_ , I have been practicing." Azazel started applying the stitches. "Tell me what happened?" Kurt repeated the story of the fight. Azazel listed patiently while he finished patching Kurt's cheek.

"...and then, I cut him with my tail, but it was an accident!"

"Let me guess," Azazel smirked. "You rolled one way and tail rolled other?"

"How did you...?" Azazel held up his own tail, as if illustrating the answer to Kurt's question.

"Tails have mind of own. You have to learn to control. Takes  _practice_."

"Oh," Kurt looked crestfallen, and Azazel laughed.

" _Nyet_  worries, I show you few tricks." Azazel then looked quizzically at Kurt. "Why were you in fight?"

"Well, I  _technically_  they started it, but then Scott and I fought back because they insulted the girls. I thought we were being  _chivalrous_ ," Kurt admitted sheepishly.

"What means ' _chivalrous_ '?" Azazel cocked his head.

"Being brave and gallant, especially towards women. You know; protecting women from harm."

" _Nyet_  worry about  _devotchkas_ , Kurt," Azazel shook his head, chuckling. " _Devochkas_ can  _fight_. Some of best fighters I know are  _devotchkas_  not much older than you."

"You know women who can fight better than men?" Now it was Kurt's turn to cock his head.

" _Da_ , my friend Clarice is brave fighter, with both hands and weapons. And your..." the word  _mother_  almost slipped out before Azazel caught himself "... _friend_  Raven, is also fighter. She is one of the best I know."

" _Raven_? Really?" Azazel nodded at Kurt's question. "How do you know?"

"I know because I taught her to fight," Azazel shrugged.

"Can you teach me to fight?" Kurt's eyes lit-up in excitement. Azazel raised an eyebrow. For a second, looking at Kurt's indigo skin and golden eyes, he was reminded of the first time he interacted with Raven.  _Teach me to fight_ , she demanded; those were the first words she actually spoke directly to him. He was impressed by her audacity, and he was thrilled to have an excuse to finally spend time with her. Never did he think when he agreed to instruct Raven so many years ago that he'd be in the same position with their son.

" _Da_ , I would like that very much." Azazel smiled softly at Kurt, who returned the gesture. Suddenly, Azazel snapped his fingers. "I have something for you." He reached into his shirt and pulled out Kurt's rosary.

"You  _found_  it!" Kurt beamed. When Azazel started to take it off, Kurt stopped him. " _Nein_ , it was a gift. Keep it?"

Both Azazel and Kurt turned at the sound of a throat clearing. Raven stood in the doorway, holding a large bag of ice, which Kurt gratefully applied it to his swollen lip.

"So," Kurt shifted the bag against his cheek, eyeing Azazel thoughtfully as he tucked the rosary back under his shirt. "Why  _are_  you here? Not that I am complaining, of course."

"I invited him," Raven said before Azazel was forced to think of an excuse. "Azazel needed some time off work and I thought you'd might like to spend time with him, since we had to leave Latvia so quickly." She shrugged casually. "Anyways, I'm going to bed now, so you two catch up." Raven turned to Kurt. "Don't stay up too late kid, or someone will notice you're not in your room past curfew." As Kurt wished her goodnight, Azazel nodded to Raven, offering a small smile. He was grateful for the unexpected peace offering, even if she was still goddamn stubborn.

* * *

In the early morning, Raven stood in the doorway of Kurt's bedroom, her arms tightly crossed as she watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. She had been startled awake hours earlier by Jean's violent dreaming, and she had been unable to fall back asleep. It wasn't Jean's fault though; Raven felt like the last two months of her life were finally catching up to her, and she was having trouble navigating the raging river of all her conflicting emotions.

Just before Jean's dreams rocked her awake, Raven had another nightmare about the day she left Kurt. She had the same nightmare twice since returning to the mansion, and it was becoming difficult to find serenity for her jangled nerves. At night, she often wandered the seemingly endless hallways of her childhood to calm her mind, but sometimes the only peace she found was standing in the doorway of Kurt's room, watching him sleep and telling herself that it was finally over: he was here, he was safe, and she never had to leave him again.

As she watched her son sleep in a peace she would never know, Raven felt a hand slide over her shoulder. She didn't even need to turn around to know whose it was.

"Do you think we were ever so young and innocent?"

"Young once,  _da_. But innocent?" Azazel shook his head. " _Nyet_. We never had  _chance_."

Raven turned to him in the dark. Without saying a word, she leaned against him, laying her head on his chest. Azazel wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting his chin on the top of her head. Before they became lovers, Raven always imagined that Azazel's crimson skin would scorching to the touch, but in reality, he wasn't any warmer than any other man she'd been with. There was a slight acrid scent that clung to him, almost like gun powder. She didn't realized she how badly she missed his smell until that moment.

"I still think about Tahiti," she admitted to the darkness, listening to the drumbeat of his heart and taking comfort in its old, familiar rhythm. She had done the math; Kurt had been conceived in Tahiti. He was the little piece of paradise they brought into reality only to be lost outside of their control. Despite their lives of violence, their son was a product of  _love_  - pure, unadulterated  _love_  - and if things had gone differently, they would have kept him, and raised him as their own. Despite what she said in Latvia - that people like them don't get to have children - it wasn't the  _truth_. The truth was that Azazel would have been a good father, and she would have tried her best to be a good mother. What she told Azazel was just the lie she had to tell herself everyday keep the pain from becoming unbearable, to allow herself to get up and put one foot in front of the other to keep living in a world that was unforgiving and cruel, that tore apart families every day for no other reason than it simply could.

"I wish we had  _nyet_  left." At the sound of his voice, Raven realized she was precariously close to tears. She squeezed her eyes shut, her throat suddenly feeling constricted.

"I wanted him to have your eyes," she whispered, afraid of her own voice.

And then, Azazel touched her face so tenderly that something she had been battling inside herself for seventeen years finally broke. The tears came, hot and slick, running down her face like blood.


	15. Fight Class

"Scott,  _nyet_!" Azazel critiqued sharply, whacking the teen with a wooden training sword.

" _Oww_!" Scott grabbed his side, glaring at Azazel. "What the  _hell_ , man?"

"Move like that and you leave self wide open for strike," Azazel pointed the training blade directly at Scott's face, looking at him down its shaft as the boy sat the ground, panting for breath. "Next time you leave opening, I hit you  _harder_." Azazel motioned to his right. "Watch Jean and Kurt."

The young telepath stood in front of Kurt, her fists at the ready. When the indigo mutant charged, she expertly blocked his first strike and twirled quickly to the side, dodging his second attempt and gaining control of Kurt's wooden sword on her rebound.

" _Khoroshiy_!" Azazel clapped as Jean pointed the sword at her fight partner. Kurt grinned, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Kurt," Azazel waved for them to continue, "get your weapon back." The red mutant offered his hand to Scott and hoisted the teen to his feet.

" _Fine_ ," Scott smirked, putting up his fists and facing Azazel, "but if I get that stick,  _I_  get to hit  _you_  with it."

"I would expect nothing less," Azazel snorted, motioning for Scott to advance.

Two months had passed since Kurt sat in Azazel's room, asking to be trained to fight. It was the first mild spring day, and the small group was outside for a change of scenery. The air was still quite cool, but his students had already worked up a sweat. Prior to being outside, they had used a large room in the school's basement that Dr. McCoy had reserved to turn into some type of advanced computer-simulation training arena. Azazel didn't quite understand all the technology Dr. McCoy deemed necessary; as far as he was concerned, hands and blades were all one needed to learn to how to fight properly. He also wasn't too keen on this Dr. McCoy person, and certainly didn't like the way the man's eyes seemed to track Raven whenever she was in the same room.

After Azazel's first night at the  _Xavier School_  - the same night Raven cried in his arms - the blue woman had all but become a ghost. Azazel had walked Raven back to her own room, and she thanked him politely before closing the door. Not that he thought she was going to invite him in, but as he stood in the dark hallway, Azazel suddenly felt more alone than he had in a long time. He teleported back to his own room and proceeded to spend the rest of his sleepless night pacing, sorely regretting serving those divorce papers. In the last two months, however, she hadn't actually  _signed_  them, which Azazel took as a good omen.

Instead of dwelling on his failing relationship, the red mutant focused his energy on his son, who he was growing closer to and prouder of each passing day.

He started training Kurt on Saturday afternoons and Wednesday evenings after academic classes finished. The first Saturday Azazel showed-up to the appointed room, however, the red mutant was taken aback by what he found.

"Who the hell are  _you_?" Azazel stopped in his tracks, cocking his head as he took in the sight of an Asian girl with curly pigtails sitting next to Kurt.

"This is Jubilee," Kurt answered happily as he stood to greet Azazel. The girl smiled and standing, thrust her hand out to Azazel. The red mutant was wary, but he shook her hand as he raised an eyebrow to Kurt for explanation. The indigo boy merely shrugged.

"I told her about training and she wanted to join us. I hope this is Ok?" At first Azazel felt a bit sour about having to share Kurt's time, but as their first session progressed, he found it hard not to like Jubilee. She was dedicated and a faster learner, and her sharp wit and comradery with Kurt reminded Azazel a little of Clarice. Besides, it was easier to teach basic blocks and advances when two students could watch and learn from each other.

By the third session, Kurt's friends Scott and Jean dropped by. Now, several weeks later, Azazel found he had his hands full with twelve regular students. Before the sessions became too popular, Azazel approached Charles to discuss his motives, making sure he was transparent with the headmaster. The telepath surprised Azazel by lending his support for such the fight class, saying that it was a good idea for the students to learn self-defense without using their mutations, many of which couldn't always be controlled and, unfortunately, often attracted negative human attention when used in panic. The only rules that Charles set were that the students couldn't draw blood during practice, and that these skills were for defense  _only_ ; anyone looking to start real fights on or off school grounds would be immediately dismissed.

The biggest surprise for Azazel, however, was how much he enjoyed working with the teens and seeing their faces light-up when they mastered a new move or won a match against a training partner. Azazel never fancied himself a  _teacher_ , but the more he thought on it, the more he remembered how very much he had enjoyed training Angel, Janos, Raven, and Clarice. The red man didn't actually stay much at the school during the week. He had to keep up appearances back East - not to mention Clarice threatened to  _kill_  him if he didn't give her regular updates on Kurt. He only stayed in his lodgings a smattering of day and nights so he could hold class and spent a little extra time with his son.

A few times Azazel caught Raven peeking in on his unofficial class, but always from a distance. He'd wave to her, and she'd smile and wave back, but whenever he called a break, the blue woman would vanish. More and more often Azazel found himself hoping to see Raven, maybe even talk to her a little. He was trying his best to be respectful, and he was giving her the time and space he knew she needed. Some foolish part of him was on the verge of hoping that maybe -  _just maybe -_ she was considering giving  _him_  another chance. It was a far-fetched thought, but still...

...there was something about her smile, and about the teens' excitement, that made Azazel start to feel happier than he had in a very long time.

* * *

"...and this is Kurt."

Kurt furrowed his brow, completely engrossed in his homework. He and Scott had claimed their favorite third floor alcove, where on Sundays after their school chores they'd meet and do their homework together. It made the work much more bearable, as they could commiserate together and bounce ideas off each other. Right now, however, Kurt really wanted to bounce his homework right out the window.  _Solve for Y...ugh! When am I going to even use this stuff?_  He had survived seventeen years without writing out one complex equation. He really found algebra about as  _charming_  as poison ivy. The jangling of bracelets finally roused his attention.

" _Huh_? Wha...?" Kurt looked up, his eyes feeling crossed from staring at  _X_ 's and  _Y_ 's for the last hour.

"Hello?  _Earth_  to Kurt?" Jubilee was making a face at him and waving her arms, causing her bracelets to clink together. Standing next to her was...

_An angel!_

Kurt's eyes lit up and his mouth gaped as he stared at the young woman standing just behind Jubilee, hugging her arms and looking every bit as uncomfortable as he did on his first day at the  _Xavier School_. The girl was tall and had long, wavy maroon hair that framed her face like a halo. Both her mouth and face were heart-shaped, and her skin was the color of cream. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose that reminded Kurt of the faint early morning stars that graced the sky just before they faded into the dawn. Kurt could feel his heart pounding in his chest; he hoped nobody could actually  _hear_  it.

"Um... _hello_?" The new girl ventured quietly, shifting her weight onto her other foot, shyly glancing up at the boys. Her eyes were a pale silver, and shined like moonlight. From the corner of his eye, Kurt vaguely registered Scott grinning, just before the teen playfully punched his arm. Kurt was knocked out of his stupor and glared at Scott, who merely shook his head as he laughed. Kurt glanced back to the new girl and cleared his throat.

" _Guten Tag_ ," he offered her a lopsided smile as he stood, holding out his hand. The girl's pale eyes went wide at the sight of his fangs and Kurt's smile shrunk slightly. After a slight hesitation, she reached out to shake his hand.

"My name's..." Suddenly, a swift breeze stirred in the hallway and cut between Kurt and the new girl's hand, stirring Kurt's math homework into the air. Both Kurt and Scott's hair fluttered back and Scott seized his notes at the last minute, before they escaped.

" _Wandanaconda_!" A young man with shaggy silver hair stood in front of them, his arm cheerfully slung around the new girl's shoulder. Kurt blinked rapidly as his math notes fluttered around the group like confetti.  _Where the heck did he come from?_  Kurt had no idea how he missed seeing the silver-haired boy with the group. Neither Jubilee or the new girl seemed startled by his sudden appearance.

"Hey  _Fireworks_! This place has a  _pool_!" The young man said excitedly as he pushed what looked like a pair of racing goggles onto his forehead. Jubilee sighed and shook her head. "When were you going to tell us about the...?" The silver-haired boy glanced over, seeming to notice Kurt and Scott for the first time. Kurt smiled widely, and the boy scrambled behind the two girls.

" _Oh my God_! What  _is_  that?!" Jubilee crossed her arms while the new girl bit her lip, embarrassed at the outburst.

" _What is it_?!" Kurt echoed, glancing around in panic, instinctively slapping at his jacket. " _Mein_   _Gott_ , it's a spider, isn't it?!" He spun quickly to check behind him. As he did, his tail flung the other direction. While Jubilee expertly ducked, the new girl wasn't so lucky.

" _Oww_!" She yelped, throwing her hands up instinctively to block the spade from slapping her face again. Kurt was mortified, but before he could apologize, something hot zapped his tail. Kurt yowled and grabbed his tail with both hands. He looked up at the girl, and her hands were sparkling red. Now she looked mortified.

"I'm  _sorry_!" They both yelled at the same time. "I can't always control it!"

"Hey,  _Blue_!" The silver-haired boy stepped in front of the girls, puffing his chest out in a show of bravado. "Get your... _tail_? Wait, you have a  _tail_?" He raised an amused eyebrow at Kurt. The indigo boy clutched his tail and nodded. "Ok, right on. Well...get your  _tail_  off my  _sister_!"

Kurt shrunk back but was stopped by Scott, who stood next to Kurt, hand on Kurt's shoulder in solidarity.

"Who the hell do you think..." Scott's voice stopped in mid-question as everyone in the room froze.

"Alright then, everyone; let's not be  _hasty_ ," Jean laughed as she approached the group. She slipped her arm around Scott's waist and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She then turned to the newcomers. "Peter, Wanda, this is Kurt and Scott. They are both students here, just like Wanda's going to be starting Monday." Jean closed he eyes, releasing the group. Once everyone was free, she turned to Wanda, smiling warmly. "One of the best things about this school is that is allows all of us to learn to control our mutations so they don't control us. Believe me, I know this firsthand."

"I'm sorry," Kurt offered. "My tail doesn't always listen, but I'm working on it." Wanda nodded but took a small step away. The indigo boy felt about two-inches tall.

"Have you  _always_  looked like that?" Peter eyed Kurt curiously.

" _Peter_!" Wanda rebuked her brother, clearly horrified at his very personal question. Kurt noticed Peter's eyes were the same silvery shade as Wanda's, but outside of this, the two didn't really look like brother and sister. They looked more like cousins.

" _Nein_ , not always," Kurt shrugged. "I used to be smaller, and Jubilee dyed the blue highlights in my hair. Normally it is all black." After a few seconds, Kurt realized that everyone was looking at him with confused expressions. Suddenly, it was like a light bulb went off in his head. "Oh wait; you mean was I always  _blue_ , with the  _tail_? Then,  _ja_. And, the fangs."

"That's... _cool_ , actually." Peter smiled and grabbed Kurt's hand, shaking it vigorously. Kurt looked at him, dumbfounded. "Sorry about that,  _Brah_. I just wasn't expecting to see like, an  _ice devil_  but whatever. It's cool. If you were  _red_  I'd have..."

"You know, we do have a  _red devil_  and I am sure he'd  _love_  you meet you," Scott rolled his eyes. "We also have several other students in residence with physical mutations and I don't think they'd appreciate you staring at them,  _Brah_."

"Come on, let's keep up the tour," Jubilee ushered Wanda forward.

"Duelly noted!" Peter laughed boisterously and thrust out his hand to Scott. "No hard feelings, man. I just don't have a filter, you know? I think it's part of my mutation!" Scott smirked but shook Peter's hand regardless.

"It was nice to meet you?" Kurt offered as Wanda walked away. The maroon-haired girl glanced over her shoulder, but didn't reply. Peter disappeared literally in a flash, stirring Kurt's homework again. The indigo mutant stood facing the girls until they disappeared around the corner. He startled when Scott clamped his hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Oh  _man_ ," Scott laughed while Jean shook her head, giggling. "You're in  _trouble_  now!"

" _What_?" Kurt arched an eyebrow. "What did...I didn't  _do_  anything!" Jean and Scott shared a knowing look, making Kurt sigh internally. Sometimes his friends were more frustrating than solving for  _Y_.

* * *

"Come in?" Charles answered automatically to the soft rapping at his office door. Seconds later he heard a distinctive  _whoosh_ of air displacement, and he glanced up from his paperwork, surprised to find Azazel, looking pensive with his hands clasped behind his back. The red man kept mostly to himself, and only sought out Charles once before to ask permission to start his self-defense class. Charles had been skeptical at first, but relented after extracting a promise that the students wouldn't actually be  _encouraged_  to pick fights. As the weeks went on, he was happy to see the students greatly enjoyed the class, and it was a good outlet for them. It was also a good excuse for the red man to spend time with Kurt without raising any suspicions.

"Well," Charles smiled, motioning to a chair. "What brings you by?"

"I have request," he stated formally as he took a seat, soothing his jacket.

"Would you like tea? I was thinking of making some." Azazel gave a noncommittal shrug. _Oh, fuck it_ , thought Charles. He wheeled over to his credenza and opened the liquor cabinet, producing a bottle of  _Talisker_. "You know, on second thought, I think I'd rather like a scotch." He poured two glasses and handed one to Azazel, who took it gratefully, clinking his glass against Charles's. After a moment, the telepath cleared his throat.

"Your request?"

" _Da_ , I would like to bring someone here to help demonstrate sword work for students," Azazel paused. "She is a comrade. I think it is also good idea to show students - especially the  _devotchkas_  - that women can fight like men."

"Why can't Raven assist you?" Charles frowned. He had allowed Azazel to stay because of Kurt, but he wasn't too keen on bringing another Soviet assassin into his school. Charles couldn't imagine that Azazel had a wide circle of friends outside of the KGB.

"You... _want_  Raven and I in same room, but with  _weapons_?" Azazel raised and eyebrow, a light smile playing on his face.

"Now that you put it  _that_  way," Charles laughed, "yes, that sounds like a  _terrible_  idea." He eyed Azazel curiously. "Is this... _comrade_  of yours going to be a problem, for my sister?"

" _Nyet_!" Azazel threw up a hand, waving away his concern. "She is to me as Raven to you. Family, is Little Sister. I have no serious woman since Raven and I..." Azazel bit his lip, frowning.

"Have you ever been in love?" Azazel asked boldly a moment later. For a second, the telepath saw a shimmer of auburn hair and deep brown eyes; he could almost feel the warmth of Moira McTaggert's lips the last time they kissed. Charles closed his eyes; he didn't know how many times in the last twenty-one years he had replayed that memory. He nodded, but couldn't bring himself to form the words.

"It is living thing, love," Azazel continued, taking a sip of his drink and using the glass to gesticulate his point. "You spend whole life building walls to keep it out, but it finds way somehow, and suddenly small things - a look, a smile, a night where someone cries in your arms - leaves you feeling like you are missing something you never thought you needed, until it is  _nyet_  longer there."

"Well, that last example was oddly  _specific,_ " Charles said, opening his eyes. He didn't make it a habit of reading people's minds, but he could easily guess who Azazel was using as his example. He cleared his throat. "How are things between you and Raven?"

"Do  _nyet_  see much of her," Azazel waved his hand. "Is probably better that way. But..." he looked at Charles, his face unreadable. "How is she?"

"She's doing well," Charles responded evenly. "She's actually teaching an  _Intro to Art_  class and seems really happy with it. Kurt's in it; he's one of her most talented students."

"Raven was always very good at making art. Does not surprise me that our son inherited this," Azazel responded, a faraway look in his eyes. "As long as she's happy, that is what matters,  _da_?"

Charles nodded, but internally he frowned. Just yesterday he questioned Raven how things were between her and Azazel, and her response was nearly identical. It wasn't the reaction Charles expected from two people who, only a few weeks prior, had a very heated screaming match regarding how hard and with what exactly, they could go fuck themselves. Sometimes he was tempted to plant the idea in both their heads that they should just talk to each other, but he knew it wasn't his place to interfere. Besides, Charles was happy that they both were creating strong bonds with Kurt, who needed them more than they needed each other.

"I'm going to be going on a short trip in a few days, and taking Alex Summers with me. I'd like it if you stayed here full time, while I was gone. And, I'll need you to bring your  _comrade_  to me before that. Please let her know I have to read her mind before she can be on the school grounds. Safety protocol, as you know."

" _Da._  And, thank you, for the drink," Azazel place his empty glass on the table. He stood, nodding at Charles before melting into smoke and fire. Charles smiled, shaking his head as the smoke cleared. Despite himself and their history, he was growing rather fond of Azazel. _Life certainly has a funny way of turning out._


	16. Friendly

"Oh my _God!_ " Clarice squealed, clasping her hands together. Her emerald eyes practically glowed with delight. Azazel stood to her left, balancing his long sword across his shoulders with one hand.

" _Clarice_..." There was a warning tone in his voice.

"Oh my  _God!_ " She repeated, utterly gushing. "He's  _soooo cute_! You didn't tell me he was  _this cute_!"

" _Um..._ thank you?" Kurt stammered, moving slightly away from her as he raised an eyebrow at Azazel. The red man sighed loudly, putting his free hand over his face, clearly annoyed by her antics. At this point, poor Kurt's cheeks were flushed purple, and Scott and Jubilee giggled madly behind him. Thankfully for his son, they were the only audience members to his embarrassment. The trio had arrived early for class; most of their peers were just now appearing on the quad and walking over to join them.

"Oh, he's like a  _little you_ ," Clarice added, thankfully in Russian. "But  _blue!_ "

"Do not  _even_...!" Azazel hissed back in Russian, alarmed at her audacity. " _Why_ would you joke like that, in front of him?" He hefted his sword from his shoulders, his pale eyes wide with disapproval. "What is  _wrong_  with you?"

"What's  _wrong_  with  _me_?" Clarice snickered as she crossed her arms loosely, a light smile playing on her lips. "Look at  _you._ Look at our  _lives_. Where do I even  _begin_?"

"What's so... _funny?_ " Kurt's laughed nervously, clearly left out of their foreign conversation. Clarice kept smiling giddily as Azazel shook his head, waving his hand in a  _nevermind_  to Kurt's question. Suddenly, Clarice rushed forward and pulled Kurt into a crushing hug. The boy let out an audible  _oopf_  as she squeezed the breath out of him.

"It is just  _so nice_  to finally meet you!" Kurt looked pleadingly at Azazel over her shoulder, his golden eyes as wide as saucers. The boy's arms stuck straight out and his tail went ridged behind him; he looked utterly bewildered as to  _why_  the beautiful stranger was  _hugging_  him. Despite his annoyance, a small grin pulled at Azazel's mouth, and he suddenly found it hard to suppress a quiet laugh. He couldn't really blame Clarice for her excitement; he was almost  _jealous_  she had the freedom to display the kind of affection towards Kurt that, thanks to Raven, Azazel had to conceal. Not that he necessarily wanted to bear-hug the boy, but  _a_   _hug_ , once in a while, would have been nice.

"Russian women are really..." The red mutant struggled, trying to plausibly explain Clarice's enthusiastic greeting. " _Friendly?_ "

"I'm  _not_  Russian," Clarice snorted, "I'm  _Vietnamese_ , get it right." Eventually, Kurt patted her lightly in return, but teleported a few feet away the moment she released him. Scott looked between Kurt and Clarice a few times before shrugging and stepping forward, holding his arms out. Jubilee gave Scott a disapproving look and punched him, causing Clarice to peel into laughter. She hugged Scott too, anyways. She always did have a soft spot for teens and children.

"Alright,  _enough,_ " Azazel grabbed Clarice's arm and dragged her away. " _Enough_." By then most of the class had assembled (including Jean, who Azazel was quick to notice, raised a sharp eyebrow at Scott while the young man cast his eyes guiltily to his feet), and Azazel was eager to get started. At least with a weapon in her hand, Clarice would focus, and he wouldn't have to worry about her embarrassing Kurt in front of more classmates.

Today was the first day of training with real weapons, and Azazel had brought Clarice in as part of a planned class demonstration outside. After a brief discussion about which blades to use, both Azazel and Clarice tied red ribbons across their chests, placing the knot just over their hearts. Azazel selected his best short swords and faced Clarice in a traditional fencing pose. He bowed to her and she returned the gesture before hefting her katana into position. The rules were simple: no use of mutations, no drawing blood, and first one to cut the ribbon from their opponent won. It was a game he had taught Clarice when when she was first learning swords, and Azazel knew it would create quite a show for his students.

More importantly, and perhaps a bit  _selfishly_ , Azazel knew swords were his strongest skill and he really wanted to impress Kurt. Maybe Raven would even be somewhere watching, too.

* * *

Kurt had never seen anything so  _exciting_  in his entire life! A few times he swore actual  _sparks_  ignited when their steel blades clashed. As Clarice and Azazel sparred, they drew a quite crowd; pretty much all the students on the quad - a few of the teachers even - ceased their studies to watch the fight.

Clarice was simply  _amazing!_ The woman was so graceful that she almost seemed to be dancing instead of sword fighting. She was a perfect foil for Azazel, who was much more brash in his movements and sword thrusts. Several times Kurt was sure Azazel was going to win, but at the last minute, Clarice would twist or roll and once even kicked his feet out from under him, dodging Azazel's strike at the last possible second. Twice it looked like Clarice had the upper hand until Azazel came at her with his second sword, driving her back or forcing her to turn. Kurt was on the edge of his seat the entire time. The demonstration ended in a draw; both mutants slashed each others' ribbon at the same time. Smiling, Clarice gave a dramatic bow to the students' applause. Azazel didn't bow, but he did look quite pleased with himself. Kurt was simply enamored as he clapped loudly; he truly hoped one day to be as good with a sword as they were, and as the hero knights and pirates in his favorite books were. He wasn't so embarrassed anymore that Clarice hugged him before class.  _Actually_ , Kurt thought as she slung her arm affectionately around Azazel,  _she does just seem really friendly_.

Although focused on the demonstration, it hadn't escaped Kurt's notice that Wanda was among the spectators. The redhead stood just outside the main cluster of onlookers, clutching a book tightly to her chest and smiling. It was the first time Kurt had seen her actually smile since she arrived at the  _Xavier School_ , and as he watched her, Kurt felt as if he had swallowed a bunch of butterflies. To his dismay, he didn't have any classes with Wanda. The few times he saw her in the halls and common areas, Kurt always waved, but she only ever seemed to half-wave back and she never approached him. Wanda kept to herself or she was with Peter, but it wasn't uncommon for new students to isolate themselves.  _Heck,_ Kurt thought, _if it wasn't for Scott inviting me to the mall my first day, I probably wouldn't have made friends so quickly_. Peter was amicable with Scott and Kurt, but the speedster was so protective of Wanda that there was no way Kurt could even dream of approaching Wanda through her brother. Kurt wasn't exactly sure why Peter was still hanging around if he wasn't taking or teaching classes. There was a rumor that Peter was trying to learn more about his birth family - that he and Wanda didn't have the same father - but Kurt hadn't heard this directly from Peter and he didn't want to spread gossip. Gossiping was  _definitely_  a sin.

As the applause died down, Kurt took a deep breath. This time he was going to do it; he was going to walk over and just say hello.  _On the count of three - eins, zwei, drei!_ He rallied himself and turned, but his shoulders slumped when he saw that Wanda had already left and was halfway across the quad. It would be awkward now to try and catch up with her. Kurt was starting to think that maybe it for the best.  _Besides_ , he reasoned,  _outside of_ hello _, I don't know what else to actually say_. Kurt stopped asking for advice from Jean and Jubilee, mostly because the girls melted into giggling fits whenever he even  _mentioned_  Wanda. Even Scott just smiled and shook his head, as if he knew something Kurt didn't. Kurt just wanted to be friendly and maybe get to know the redhead better. He didn't see why everyone seemed to find that so funny.

As Kurt moped and watched Azazel and Clarice playfully banter, he was suddenly struck with an idea. He felt comfortable talking to Azazel, and the man was always encouraging Kurt to come to him if he needed anything. He even insisted on giving Kurt pocket money whenever Kurt went out with his friends.  _Maybe I can ask Azazel for advice?_ Part of him felt silly asking a grown man about a girl he maybe liked (maybe a little), but Azazel seemed to have no problem talking to Clarice or Raven, and both of them were both super pretty. And, at the very least, he doubted that Azazel would laugh at or make fun of him for asking. Yes, he'd approach Azazel after class and see if he had any ideas about what Kurt could do.  _Something was better than nothing, right?_  For the first time in a week, Kurt started to feel a bit more optimistic.

* * *

There were few things Clarice loved more than her swords. Like her mentor, she didn't harbor many personal possessions, but her blades held an honored place in her world, especially her katana. When she was nineteen, she finally bested Azazel in a fight, and a few days later he gifted her the beautiful Japanese sword. It was a symbol of how far she had come under his tutelage, and the gesture meant the world to her. A short distance behind her, Azazel was wrapping his weapons and getting ready to start class with wooden training swords. The students wouldn't be allowed to handle  _real_  blades until they mastered the basics. That's where Clarice came in; she would assist by monitoring the students, assuring no one accidentally injured themselves or their partners. Two sets of eyes on twelve novices was much safer than one. **  
**

Frankly, she was just thrilled that Azazel _finally_  brought her to America. Back East, she had completed all their assignments and she was getting downright  _bored_. Her stubbornness wouldn't let her to admit it out loud, but Clarice had started to feel lonely without Big Brother around to pester. She didn't realize how much she missed him until the weeks dragged by without seeing him at  _The Zaytsev_ , and she was tired of the run-down Minsk apartment (which  _did_  smell like socks, despite what he claimed). Clarice had been chomping at the bit to meet Kurt. So far, the indigo boy was much more wonderful than she imagined. Sure, maybe she was a bit zealous in her greeting, but she was so elated with the idea a  _nephew_  - of having any  _family_ , really - that she couldn't help herself, even if Azazel threatened to murder her if she revealed anything to Kurt. Clarice hadn't seen  _The Hero_  yet, but she'd only been on campus for a few hours; really, it was just a matter of time. _That encounter will certainly be interesting,_ she mused, polishing her blade and smirking at her own reflection.

"Yo, Laser-beams, Elf! What you guys up to...?" Clarice vaguely registered the nearby chatting students. After a moment, however, she had the uncanny feeling that someone was  _watching_  her. She glanced up to see a young man with shaggy silver hair suddenly standing nearby and staring down at her. For some odd reason, he was wearing what looked to be racing goggles.

"Hello." Clarice politely greeted him.

"Hi!" The stranger responded brightly, a doltish grin spreading across his face.

"Hi," Clarice shrugged, turning her attention back to her sword.

"Hi!" He repeated, not budging from his place.

"... _Um_ , hi?" Certainly her English wasn't  _perfect_ , but she was sure she hadn't missed any social clues in their limited conversation. She looked back up; the silver-haired youth just kept staring. The expression on his face took on a dreamlike quality, almost as if he was intoxicated.

"Can I help you with something?" Clarice arched her eyebrow.

"Are you new here?" He asked excitedly, pushing his goggles up to his forehead. His eyes were the same pale silver as his hair, making Clarice smile slightly. It was always nice to see someone else with unusual eyes, like hers and like Kurt's. "It's just haven't seen you before. I've only been here for a week, but I would have remembered seeing you."

"I just started...  _teaching_ here," Clarice bit her lip. "Are you lost, or something?" She motioned to where Azazel stood just a short distance away. "You should probably ask Azazel where your class is, I'm afraid I'm not very familiar with..."

"Oh,  _no!_ " He laughed loudly, waving his hands as he shook his head. " _No_ , I'm not like, one of the  _students_  here. I'm an adult. I'm twenty-five. My name's Peter." He held out his hand, and Clarice hesitated before reaching up to take it. There was something about Peter that was a little  _intense_.

"Ok Peter," Clarice nodded as he enthusiastically shook her hand. "I'm Clarice."

"So, your accent? Clarice?" He spoke her name slowly, as he was savoring each syllable. "Is it Russian? Because it sounds Russian, but you sure don't look Russian. Honestly, you look south Asian, maybe Thai? Or Laotian? Or Vietnamese?"

"Russian is my primary language," Clarice eyed Peter, a bit impressed with his guessing. Many Westerners automatically assume that she was Chinese or Japanese, but mostly because Westerns don't seem to realize that there are more than two Asian ethnicities in the world. "You're correct - I  _am_  Vietnamese - but how...?"

"I  _knew_  it!" He smiled triumphantly, pumping his free hand in the air. "The neighbors at my mom's place are from Vietnam. Seriously, that is some of the best take-out I've ever had in my life! But wait, how come you speak Russian if you're Vietnamese?" Peter was still shaking her hand vigorously.

"It's  _complicated._ " Clarice bit her lip again. He seemed nice enough, but she wasn't about to discuss her life story with a stranger. "So, are you a teacher here, as well?"

"Nope, I'm here for her," Peter thumbed over his shoulder. In the distance, Clarice spied a redheaded girl sitting against a tree with her nose buried in a book. "That's my  _sister_  Wanda. She just became a student here and I'm staying until she gets settled in."

"I see. Well..." Clarice retracted her hand from Peter's, using a bit of force, "it was very nice to meet..."

"Since I'm her big brother," he continued, now running his hand through his hair as if he was trying to sooth it in place. "I don't want anyone to mess with her. She's always been a little shy, and especially more since she can't always control her powers. Anyways, do you live here, now?"

"Well, I'm staying here for a few days, but..."

"Because if you're new here - which you said you just started here, so I'm assuming you're new - I'd be happy to show you around and tell you what's cool and stuff. Hey, do you like pizza?"

"Do I  _like_...?" Clarice frowned, cocking her head. She was having a hard time keeping up with Peter's swift moving trains of thought.

"There's a wicked awesome pizza place just off campus and if you haven't been, you should totally check it out. Actually it's in Boston but I can get you there in no time at all. That's my mutation, super speed. That and cool hair." Peter gave a goofy smile, pointing both thumbs at his chest proudly. "Maybe you'd like to go there sometime? Like, maybe with me?"

Clarice opened her mouth but before she could respond, they both startled as a large duffle bag landed with a loud  _thunk_  between them. Azazel stood next to her, his arms crossed as he eyed Peter calculatingly, his tail whipping behind him. The red mutant offered a hand to help Clarice stand, not once taking his eyes off the speedster.

"Let's go, Clarice," Azazel finally turned and motioned to the class behind him. "Children?"

"Yes," Peter cleared his throat and lowered his voice, also motioning to the students. " _Children_."

Azazel put his hand lightly on Clarice's back, guiding her away from Peter and towards the practice area. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the silver-haired youth snap his goggles on and zip over to Kurt and Scott. He gave her another goofy smile and waved as she walked away. Before she could stop herself, Clarice grinned and waved back.  _He's a bit much,_ she mused, _but he seems like he was just trying to be nice_. When she turned to Azazel, he was looking down at her with a raised eyebrow.

" _What_?" Clarice laughed and punched his arm. "You said it yourself Big Brother. I guess I'm just  _really_   _friendly_."


	17. Advice

After class, Kurt surprised Azazel by accompanying him and Clarice on a tour of the  _Xavier School_. In spite of the boy's initial reaction, Azazel found himself smiling as he watched the two walk in front of him, chatting away happily as Kurt noted various points of interest. The red mutant had been confident Kurt would have eventually warmed-up to Clarice; the boy was so sweet natured that at times, Azazel swore he caught glimpses of the shy, timid girl that Raven had once been in their son's golden eyes. Or course, Azazel knew it was hard for anyone to  _not_  like Clarice - as long as they were on the better end of her swords, at least - and from the way the girl kept stealing glances back and making happy faces at Azazel, he could see that she was smitten with her secret nephew.

The sword demonstration had gone better than anticipated, and Azazel was feeling quite pleased with things. The only vexatious part of his morning had been that Maximoff kid pestering Clarice, but Azazel shooed him away before he became disruptive. Frankly, the red mutant found it odd that the boy remained on campus when he wasn't actually a student. All Azazel knew from a passing conversation with Charles was that the kid  _might_  be Magneto's son, and he was trying to learn more about his rumored father. Azazel couldn't really see any of his former comrade in the boy, but inherited traits in  _invisible_  mutants - mutants who looked  _human_  enough to pass in the outside world - were hard for him to see. Mutants who couldn't hide their physical adaptations - such as himself, Raven, or even Clarice - it was much easier to spot familial relations. As far as the Maximoff kid was concerned... well, Azazel couldn't see it, and frankly, didn't care to find it. He fervently hoped that the boy wouldn't find out he worked with Magneto and start pestering him for information.

On the lam or not, Magneto was still a dangerous man, and Azazel didn't want anything associated with the metal-bender near him, Clarice, or Kurt. He remembered all too well the perils Magneto forced the Brotherhood into time and time again. At least Shaw knew  _restraint,_ and under his leadership, Azazel never had to worry about getting killed by some poorly planned mission to chase a personal vendetta. The red mutant had decided to return to the KGB shortly after Emma absconded from the new team; honestly, he only stuck around long enough to end-up in Dallas because Raven asked him to stay, and seeing how  _that_  trip concluded, it had been worth it at the time. Who knew what potential for violence the Maximoff kid had in him if Magneto was really his father?

Azazel wasn't going to let himself worry too much, though. Kurt didn't hang out much with the boy, and while Clarice enjoyed being flirtatious, she could certainly take care of herself. Besides, after the traumatic events of her childhood, she simply didn't date; she actually never let any man get close to her. In many ways, it was almost a shame. Despite her sharp tongue and quick wit, Azazel knew there was a kindness in Clarice's heart that was rare in their comrades. She had a fiercely loyal, nurturing side that sometimes secretly reminded him of his own mother. Clarice would have made an excellent partner for anyone who could get past her defenses, and of course, who meet Azazel's approval. After all, he wasn't going to let just anyone near his  _Little Sister_.

They ended their tour in kitchen, where Clarice was making Kurt her famous hot chocolate. If there was one thing Clarice excelled at more than swords, it was cooking. She learned her way around a kitchen when she was about eleven (mostly, Azazel suspected, because he'd was a terrible cook, burning 99% of anything he touched, including water). Presently, Kurt was seated at the table and gazing out the window. Azazel had noticed of late that the boy often seemed distracted, and a few times that afternoon Kurt seemed on the verge of asking something before abruptly changing his mind. Azazel sat across from him, regarding his boy pensively.

"What is on your mind,  _moy mal'chik?_ " Clarice glanced over from the stove, but Azazel shook his head, indicating everything was alright. Kurt had a limited grasp of Russian, so he hadn't yet deciphered pet names. It was the only real indulgence Azazel allowed himself.

"Nothing much," Kurt shrugged, still looking out the window but now running his finger absentmindedly around the rim of his mug.

"Does not look like  _nyet_  to me," the red mutant encouraged. After a moment, Kurt turned towards him and smiled almost sheepishly. His attention briefly alighted to the indigo streaks swirled in Kurt's hair. Of late, Azazel noticed many students running around with unnatural colors marring their natural hair. Half of his own students seemed excited to learn that Clarice's magenta highlights appeared as part of her mutation. Personally, he thought Kurt looked more handsome with jet black hair like his, but kids were going to be kids, so instead Azazel chose to ignored the silly fad.

"It's just... _well_ ," Kurt hesitated, biting his lip before recklessly blurting out, "how do you talk to a girl?"

"Easy!" Azazel beamed, motioning for Kurt to lean towards him. Kurt's eyes lit-up and he looked eagerly across the table. "Stand in front of her, open mouth, remember to breath. Breathing is  _key_." Azazel sat back, chuckling as Kurt rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Oh, come  _on_ ," Kurt sighed, "I'm  _serious_. I really want to talk to this girl, but I don't know what to say except 'hello.' I,  _ah_...maybe  _like_ this girl. Maybe a  _little_."

"There is  _devotcka_  you... _like_?"Azazel blinked rapidly, reeling from the implication of Kurt's words. Sure, it wasn't an unusual statement from a growing teenager, but Azazel wasn't sure he was ready to hear it. He still had trouble seeing Kurt as anything outside of his little boy. The red mutant made a mental note to speak with Charles about giving Kurt a  _birds-and-bees_  speech; he certainly wasn't going to let Raven do it or they'd be grandparents in a year's time for sure.

"Hang on," Clarice called to the pair, arching her eyebrow. "You're asking  _him_  for advice on women?" Kurt shrugged a  _why not?_  prompting Clarice to snatch her mug and dash over. "Oh man, don't start without me! This is going to be  _good_."

"Is my life always such a joke to you?" Azazel reproached in Russian as she took a seat across from him.

"It sure is," she smiled wickedly, answered back in Russian as she blew on her hot chocolate. "Also,  _Nadya_  doesn't count as ' _dating_.'"

" _Jesus_ Clarice," Azazel gave her a sharp look. "Don't make me regret bringing you here." She smirked innocently and held up her hands in a mock surrender. Azazel returned his attention to Kurt, switching back to English.

"Which _...girl_ , is it?"

"...Her name's Wanda," Kurt blushed. "She's new here. I just met her last week."

"Wanda?" Azazel stoked his chin, trying to recall if he had met the new girl. Kurt meekly pointed out the window, and Azazel followed his son's gaze until he spied her in the distance, reading and leaning against a tree. Suddenly, a light went off in his head.

" _Da_ , I have seen her," Azazel nodded, a small grin blooming on his face. Kurt had  _good_  taste; Azazel was happy to take credit for passing along that trait. "Very pretty  _devotchka_. _"_

"Wait,  _that_ Wanda?" Clarice motioned out the window. "Isn't she  _Peter's_  sister?"

"Peter? The  _annoying_   _shiny_  one?" Azazel winced when Kurt nodded. He knew that Maximoff kid had a sister, but he didn't realize she was the same girl. The red mutant suddenly had a glimpse of fast-moving, non-stop talking grandchildren and it was enough to make him almost to shudder.  _Well, maybe it doesn't run in the family,_ he consoled himself. The Maximoff  _girl_  wasn't rumored to be Magneto's, although Azazel wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of her being loosely related to the metal-bender through her brother either.

"This Wanda..." Azazel looked thoughtfully at Kurt. "She reads much? Always has nose in book?"

" _Ja_ , most times I've seen her, she's reading," the indigo boy responded. Azazel held up a finger to gesticulate his next point.

"Find out what she reads, get same book, read book. Then, show up with book and act like its co-accident you both have it. After that," Azazel sat back, sweeping his hand across the table, pleased with his solution. "Is easy. Talk about book, then ask about her.  _Devotchkas_  like talking about selves."

"Well, that's going to take  _forever_ ," Clarice rolled her eyes as Azazel snorted. She looked at Kurt thoughtfully. "What about this: earlier when Peter pointed Wanda out to me, I noticed she was wearing a  _Star Wars_  shirt."

"So?" Kurt responded, pointing at his own shirt. "I have a  _Star Wars_  shirt."

"Exactly my point. You both like _Star Wars_. So, walk up to her and ask why she thinks Lando was wearing Han's clothing at the end of  _Empire_. Or, who she thinks shot first in  _New Hope_. Talk  _Star Wars_  and you're good to go."

"I..." Kurt cocked his head, his golden eyes wide in epiphany. "I did not think of this!"

"Ask her...?" Azazel frowned. "What are you talking about? What's a  _Star Wars_?"

"You have never seen  _Star Wars_?" Kurt looked pained, almost as if someone sucker punched him when Azazel shook his head. "Not even  _one_?"

"He's  _lame_ ," Clarice snickered playfully, "he's never seen  _anything._ "

"I am  _nyet_  lame," Azazel glared at her before turning to Kurt, exasperated.  _Kids these days._  Of course he hadn't see these movies; it's not like he could just  _walk_  into a movie theater back without causing a  _riot_. Clarice had more freedom than he; all she had to do was wear sunglasses and use make-up to cover her facial markings and she could temporarily pass as human. From the corner of his eye, he saw Clarice mouth the words  _totally lame_ while the boy giggled.

Before Azazel could contest her teasing, a strong breeze ripped through the kitchen. Suddenly, the Maximoff kid stood next to the table, smiling excitedly and holding a large cardboard box.

"Hi there Elf! And, Red Dude whose name I can't remember!" He nodded politely at Kurt and Azazel before turning his full attention to Clarice. "Hey! Remember that pizza place I told you about? Well, I got a pizza from there. Sorry it took so long. I was there lickity-split but they needed a  _whole_   _hour_  to make it.  _Plebs_ ," Peter shook his head. "Anyways, I thought maybe we could sit outside and eat lunch since the weather's nice? I promise it's the best pizza in the world."

"How did you...?" Clarice eyed the box of pizza and its delivery boy with her head cocked in surprise.

"That's my my thing, remember?" He tossed his head, shaking his shaggy hair away from his goggles. "Super speed?"

"...And cool hair, yes I remember now," Clarice recovered quickly, batted her eyes. "Wow Peter! Are you always so... _fast_?"

"I can be... _slow_ ," Peter's eyes lit up and he dropped his voice, raising an eyebrow. "When the  _situation_  calls for it."

 _Christ almighty_ , Azazel thought irritated. Clarice was up to something; could see through her games a kilometer away, but he sincerely doubted the smitten speedster knew he was being played.

"I'd  _like_  to have lunch with you, but..." Clarice pouted, taking a step closer to him and laying her hand gently on the boy's forearm. At her touch, Peter went ridged. It was the first time Azazel realized the boy was even capable of standing still. "...I already promised Kurt here that I'd have lunch with  _him_." Kurt opened his mouth but Azazel caught his eye, motioning slightly with his hand for the boy to remain silent. He wanted to see where Clarice was going with her farce.

"Oh," Peter nodded, crestfallen. "Ok. Well, maybe another...?"

"But you know what? You're right; it is too nice to be stuck inside," Clarice laughed flirtatiously. "I have an idea! Why don't you invite your sister to join us and then the four of us can eat lunch together?"

"Ok, yeah! Fantastic!" Peter grinned brightly as he thrust the pizza box at Kurt, who just barely caught it. "I'll grab Wanda and meet you both outside in like, two minutes?" Clarice nodded and Peter zoomed away, leaving Kurt holding the pizza box and looking at Clarice in astonishment.

"Come on  _moy mal'chik_ ," Clarice smirked, slinging her arm around Kurt's shoulders. "I'll show you how to talk to a girl."

Azazel shook his head as he watched the pair leave the kitchen. Kurt was practically walking on air while Clarice blew a mock kiss at the red mutant.  _No one appreciates me_ , he frowned, glancing at Clarice's abandoned hot chocolate.  _Fuck it,_ he seized the mug as a consolation prize, _I'm drinking this; maybe I can even find some bourbon around here to...  
_

"So," Azazel startled at the sound of the voice, almost choking on his first swig of the hot chocolate. He turned swiftly towards the doorway to find Raven standing with her arms folded across her chest, regarding him patiently.

"Who's  _Nadya_?"


	18. Not What It Seems

"Dude, did you  _see_  Azazel's girlfriend?" A young male voice chimed. Raven stopped dead in her tracks in the hallway just beyond the conversation. The blue woman didn't make it a habit of eavesdropping - especially not on  _teenage boys_  - but their words and tone had caught her attention. She held her breath, cocking her head to better hear.

"Total fox!" A second voice answered. "I'd fence with her  _any_  day!"

Raven peered around the corner just in time to see the students ambling towards the main classroom wing, book bags slung over their shoulders. She recognized both from Kurt's little fight club - or whatever Azazel called it - from the few times she had observed it. Raven bit her lip, watching the teens until they disappeared, oblivious to her presence and of course, to her significance in their conversation.

The weight of their words gnawed at her in a way she couldn't quite justify without feeling shamefully naive. It's not as if she could realistically believe Azazel hadn't moved on in the last seventeen years, especially given the lies he believed about her after the raid. Still, the thought of him being intimate with another woman hadn't ever really crossed her mind. Ever since running into Azazel in East Berlin, Raven had secretly felt guilty about the few men she had slept with, even if those encounters hadn't meant anything to her beyond stress release from a one or two night stand.  _And_   _I really thought Azazel was dead,_  she reminded herself, _so there was no reason for me to not move on with my life_. The last man Raven actually fucked with was that Canadian mutant, that Logan something-or-another, who she had pulled out of the Potomac River while wearing Stryker's skin in early '74. The mutant pair spent one week on the run, and the only thing they had in common besides their swiftly pursuing enemies was that they were both hurting and missing someone they desperately loved. Raven didn't even care that Logan called her  _Kayla_  at one point, whoever  _Kayla_  was. The blue woman just wanted to connect with someone, to touch and be touched and feel like she wasn't so  _goddamn alone_  in the world after losing all the men she had ever loved all over again in '73.

Right now, standing in the corridor of her brother's school, Raven felt stupid for even having pangs of jealously. Of course Azazel had _every right_  to move on and be with someone who could love him without all the complications she thrust into his life. Even the night she cried in his arms, she woke the next morning feeling ashamed for yet again letting herself drown in a past that neither of them had the power to change. He had already given her divorce papers, anyways; she should probably just sign them and get it over with, and cut him free so at least one of them could move on. She wasn't even entirely sure why she hadn't signed those papers in all the time they had been in a crumpled heap on her nightstand. It just hadn't seemed that important, or that final, until she heard the word  _girlfriend_  in association with Azazel's name.

Sighing, Raven changed direction to fetch water from the kitchen. She had promised Hank she'd meet with him to assist with his latest project, something he kept calling "The Danger Room."  _Leave it to Hank to come-up with a silly, science-fiction name for a serious project_ , Raven thought, shaking her head. Despite being twenty-one years since the day they met, there was still so much of the goofy young scientist left in Hank that it made her smile. She was glad that at least one person from the old days was able to hold on to some of their innocence; Lord knows it had been ripped away from her and Erik and Charles the day they stood at odds on the beach. The blue woman had no idea what to expect from Hank's latest experiment except that it was some technology-based fight simulator he was building in the school's basement. He had asked for her help because Alex had already left for Washington with Charles, and next to him, Raven had the most real-life combat experience, which was needed to develop realistic battle scenarios. Raven almost suggested that Hank should ask Azazel if he  _really_  wanted the best fight experience, but decided it was probably better to avoid putting the two men alone in a room. The last time they stood that near each other, Hank almost lost his left eye and Azazel walked away with a bruised jaw.

Lost in her thoughts, Raven approached the kitchen only to stop in her tracks for a second time. She didn't expect to find both Kurt and Azazel seated at the table. She glanced at the hall clock, surprised that she'd lost track of the time. She didn't realize that their class had already finished. The blue woman skirted into the doorway's shadows, hesitant to interrupt the pair's conversation. Raven quietly watched them, smiling at their similarities in speech and mannerisms, right down to the way their tails twitched. She was on the verge of saying  _hello_  when suddenly, Raven heard a woman's voice she didn't recognize.

"Hang on, you're asking  _him_  for advice on women? Oh man, don't start without me! This is going to be  _good_."

She saw a young woman dash into view, clutching a drink mug. Azazel looked annoyed and switched to Russian, but when the girl turned to answer, Raven's heart skipped a beat and her hand shot to her mouth, stifling a gasp. She recognized the girl's face immediately; Raven had seen those bright eyes and pale tattoos in her nightmares for the last seventeen years. She was the little girl from the raid, only, she wasn't so  _little_  anymore. Raven slunk further back into the shadows, flipping her hair and skin into a darker shade of blue to blend in. It dawned on her that this girl must be the  _girlfriend_  that those boys mentioned, but there was no way that could be the reality. From their interactions alone, Raven could see Azazel clearly cared for this girl, but not in a romantic way.  _And who the fuck was Nadya?_  Raven furrowed her brow at the girl's teasing and Azazel's alarm. There was no way she could walk into the kitchen now. For once, the blue mutant almost thanked God for Peter when the silver-haired speedster appeared and whisked away both Kurt and the girl through the opposite door.

Now Raven stood in the doorway, wearing her blond disguise again with her arms loosely crossed as she faced her former lover. In his surprise, Azazel not only managed to spit hot chocolate everywhere, but his tail knocked over the remainder of Kurt's drink as he abruptly stood. The mug tumbled to the floor, smashing upon impact.

"You know," Raven grimaced, grabbing a towel as Azazel knelt to pick up the shards, "for a professional assassin, you're getting kinda  _jumpy_."

"She's...is  _nyet_ , nothing. I...I know her through work, but is  _nothing!_ " Azazel stammered, uncharacteristically flustered as she knelt down next to him to help. How many times had they been in this same position, cleaning up some mess together? One thing Raven remembered from living with Azazel was that, when he was "off the clock" and able to let his guard down, he could sometimes get clumsy, especially if he didn't watch his tail. Raven had seen him knock over vases, upturn the laundry basket, even trip her once when he wasn't looking. It was the same daily clumsiness she saw in Kurt when he knocked over his charcoals or paint water that she knew he'd grow out of eventually. At least, she hoped he would.

"Zaz, it's  _fine_ ," Raven started mopping up the rapidly spreading liquid. The spill was really her fault, anyways, and she was starting to feel like an idiot for startling him. She had no right to let her feelings get the better of her judgement, or to make him feel guilty. It didn't matter who  _Nadya_  was, and it wasn't her place to ask. "In all these years, I mean, I really wouldn't expect you to not..."

" _Nyet_!" Azazel suddenly seized her hand, stopping the rag. Raven glanced over and was surprised to see a pleading expression on his face, almost as if he was begging her to believe him. Without thinking, Raven reached out and wiped a splash of hot chocolate off his cheek with her thumb. Kneeling this close together with her hand on his face, she suddenly thought how easy it would be to lean over and kiss him, if she wanted to. The first time they ever kissed they were in a similar position, only it was because she had finally knocked him to the floor during fight training and he tripped her in retaliation as he fell. He had been a terrible kisser, shoving his tongue down her throat like he was trying to choke her. Thankfully with time and practice, he became  _much_   _better_ , and they were able to laugh about it later. Raven felt her face flush hot the memory and pulled her hand sharply away, casting her eyes to the floor. Sensing her discomfort, Azazel released her hand and moved back slightly.

"Is  _nyet_  what you think," Azazel sighed, much more composed. "And,  _nyet_  how Clarice makes it to be. She just enjoys being my  _pest_."

"So, you kept her, huh?" Raven stood, depositing the dirty towel in a bin before pointing out the window. Peter was zooming around, acting out some story while the girl and the others laughed.

"I think she kept me, actually," Azazel responded, seeming rather relieved at the change of subject. He was never very good at expressing his feelings, even with her. Raven knew from experience that if she pushed too much, he'd shut down completely. She looked at him, waiting patiently.

"She is good girl,  _mostly_ ," he continued, now looking out the window. "She is smart, quick learner, strong fighter. Saved my life a few times," Azazel turned to Raven, offering a small smile. "I think you would have been proud of her. I wanted to tell you, in Lativa, but  _nyet_  had chance."

"Well, I'm glad," Raven returned his smile. "I've thought about her over the years, you know? About what happened to her. I'm glad she made it. Thanks, for taking care of her. But, ' _Clarice'_?" Raven cocked her head. "Wasn't that your mother's name?"

"You remember," Azazel responded quietly. Raven nodded before looking away.  _You have no idea what I remember._

* * *

 _Goddamn foolish girl_ , Azazel thought as he watched Clarice in the distance. He was irritated that she mentioned any of his personal life in earshot of Kurt, even if in Russian and jokingly. Because of her recklessness, Raven had overheard her jest and now, who knew what the blue woman  _really_  thought?

Azazel had been wholly unprepared to run into Raven, and he cursed himself for spilling his drink and stuttering about  _another woman_  in front of her, like an idiot. It was one of the rare times that Azazel was actively  _happy_  his skin was dark red so Raven couldn't see his embarrassment. At least in the last few minutes he seemed to defuse the situation, although something continued to flip in his chest alarmingly.

Azazel glanced at Raven. He had felt a little encouraged when they were on the floor cleaning-up the spill, at least. For a second, he had seen the unguarded look in her eyes before she turned and took her hand away. He still had a chance to fix this. Azazel thought quickly, trying to invent an excuse to keep Raven in his company long enough to really turn things around. He looked at the children outside, enjoying the pleasant weather.

"I thought of taking a walk," Azazel smiled warmly, an idea dawning on him. "Raven, if you want, maybe you would like…?"

"Hey Raven! I've been looking…" Both mutants turned to see Dr. McCoy stride into the kitchen. Azazel noticed Raven smile at his appearance, which only set a hard scowl on his face.

"Hi Hank," Raven greeted him. The red mutant gave the intruder a curt nod to acknowledge his presence, but otherwise remained silent. The scientist seem to pick up immediately on the tension.

"I'm sorry," he took a step back, holding up his hands as if retreating from the scene. "I didn't mean to..."

"No, it's fine," Raven waved away his concern. "I was just getting a bottle of water before meeting you."Azazel turned to Raven, raising an eyebrow. For some reason, it never occurred to him that she might already have plans. Plans that involved being with Dr. McCoy, much to his dismay.

"I'm helping Hank with a tech project," Raven shrugged, answering Azazel's expression. "Actually, I think it's something you'd find useful when it's done."

" _Da_ , surely," Azazel nodded, tried to sound positive. " _Useful_."

"And Zaz? Listen, I actually meant to tell you earlier," Azazel perked up, looking at Raven encouragingly. "Um, I wanted to say anytime you want those papers, I can sign them, Ok? You know where to find me."

"Oh,  _da_ ," he nodded, now really feeling like a fool, "...thanks."

Azazel fought the urge to teleport immediately out of the kitchen, not wanting to cause a scene. Raven frowned slightly, moving past him towards the fridge. Wasting no time, Azazel turned on his heels to leave, walking past Dr. McCoy. Only when he was  _absolutely_  certain that Raven's view was blocked by the fridge door and wouldn't hear him, did Azazel locked eyes with Dr. McCoy and hold up his hand, motioning for the man pay attention. He leaned forward, a nervously polite expression on his face.

"Keep your hands off  _my wife_ ," Azazel hissed, shooting him a look of pure murder. The young man's eyes widened as he took a sudden step back. Azazel continued to stare him down, melting into smoke the instant he stepped foot out of the room.


	19. Problems

Clarice had a problem.

She cracked opened her door, looking cautiously up and down the length of the hallway.  _Nothing_. She took a deep breath and slipped out, closing the door softly behind her. She padded the corridor silently, glancing over her shoulders as she made her way towards the grand staircase.  _So far, so good._  In the Professor's absence, Dr. McCoy had been gracious enough to find Clarice her  _own_  bedroom, and it was nice too; it even had it's own attached bathroom, much like Azazel's room. Clarice was grateful for the privacy. Right now, her room was the only place she didn't have to worry about running into...

" _Howdy!_ " Clarice froze mid-stride, closing her eyes and sighing as a familiar breeze ruffled her clothes and hair. Her fingers had just brushed the staircase banister. It was the furthest she had gotten all week.

"Hi, Peter," Clarice turned around, forcing a smile as she soothed her disheveled appearance. "How are you?"

"Fantastic! You?" Peter grinned foolishly, pushing his goggles up and trying to lean casually against the railing. He misjudged the distance and his hand slipped, causing him to stumble slightly, but the speedster recovered quickly and maintained eye contact with Clarice as if it didn't happen.

"I'm... _good_ ," Clarice bit her lip, suppressing a laugh. The last thing she wanted was to  _encourage_  him. She motioned to the stairs. "I was just going..."

"Downstairs? I can take you!" Peter moved forward but she swiftly stepped back.

" _No!_ " Clarice winced when he frowned slightly, retracting his hands as if scalded. She didn't intend to sound so  _harsh_. Clarice recovered quickly. "I meant  _no_ , but  _thanks_. I,  _uh_ , feel like walking normal pace?"

"Ok, right on," Peter shrugged, unconvinced. He never seemed to understand why anyone would choose regular pace when they could have super speed. His smiled returned, this time showing a flash of teeth as he brushed his hair back. Clarice noticed Peter's nervous habit of always fixing his hair; she doubted he even realized he was doing it.

"So listen," Peter started, "I thought maybe later, if you're free...?" Clarice held up her hand, cutting him off mid-question.

" _Sorry_ , but I promised Azazel I'd help him with... _stuff_.  _Um_ , class stuff? Later." Clarice took a deep breath, mustering the energy to fain disappointment. "Yeah,  _sorry_ , but I've just been _so busy_  since I started here. You know... _too busy_  to really do much else?"

"Oh…" Peter nodded, pretending to agree, "that's  _cool_." Clarice motioned again to the staircase and smiled, hinting that she needed to be on her way. This time Peter caught her drift. "I'll see you around, then? I mean, I might zip by to watch Elf and Laser-beams at swords later, if that's Ok...?"

"Sure," Clarice nodded. "Anyone's welcome to watch."

"And, Clarice?" Peter snapped his goggles on, grinning again like a fool. "You look really pretty today. Well, you look really pretty  _every_   _day_ , but I wanted to tell you that  _today_." Before she could respond he zoomed away, leaving her standing with her mouth agape in the ripple of his blurry departure.

For all intents and purposes, Peter seemed like a genuinely  _nice guy_. Ever since Clarice accepted Peter's offer for lunch last week - which she only did as an excuse to get Kurt and Wanda talking – the speedster had all but become her shadow. Everyday he had found some excuse to seek her out, often awkwardly suggesting a date without outright asking. Clarice was even a bit flattered by the attention.  _But it would never work between us_ , she thought, jogging downstairs. Outside of his mutation, Peter was just a good, all-American  _kid_ ; she was a highly-trained KGB  _assassin_. She couldn't taint his world with something like that, not to mention the fact that Clarice simply  _didn't_  date. After what she experienced as a child...she shuttered involuntarily at the thought as her hand clamped down hard on the banister. She counted backwards from ten to calm herself. After all these years, she still sometimes had nightmares about her captivity, and after what those  _monsters_  did to her...well, the thought of a man's hands on her body in any  _romantic_ way made her skin crawl.

It was all the more reason Clarice couldn't quite figure out  _why,_ exactly, she felt guilty every time she turned Peter down. The speedster certainly wasn't the first guy she had rejected (although, he was certainly the most  _persistent_ ); it was just that all the other guys who'd expressed romantic interest in her were cold-blooded, KGB killers. Despite her always teasing Azazel about his limited friendships, the truth was that Clarice didn't exactly have a wide social circle herself. It wasn't until she spent this past week at Westchester observing young mutants interact that she realized the true power of the  _Xavier School_. The Professor had built a community here, one in which young mutants could have  _regular_ social interactions and feel like they had a place in the world. Clarice was almost jealous of the normalcy Kurt experienced that was denied to her when she was his age. Part of her would have given anything to attend a regular high school and have her most pressing worry to be what she wanted to wear out on Friday rather than which target made the most sense to dispatch first or which head was worth the highest price. She knew Azazel did the best he could raising her with his limited resources, and she was grateful for all he did. But, theirs was a world that Peter could  _never_  understand, and it was one she didn't want anyone to fall into if they could have Westchester instead.

"Well,  _someone's_  in a  _craptacular_  mood," Clarice greeted Azazel in Russian when she arrived on the quad. For the past week, Azazel seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face, even for him. Clarice defaulted to Russian when they were alone. Although fluent in English, she missed the familiarity of her primary tongue, and she knew Azazel much preferred Russian. Despite the school's welcoming community, Clarice was still sharply aware that they were outsiders, only allowed in because of Kurt's blood and the Professor's generosity. _Yet one more reason it wouldn't work between Peter and I_. Clarice frowned, unsure why the thought even crossed her mind. She looked to Azazel, waiting for a reply. He continued to toss the wooden swords around.

"Did you hear me, Big Brother?" Clarice raised her voice. "I said, ' _Someone's_  in…"

" _Yes_ , I heard you the  _first_  time," Azazel snapped, not bothering to even turn around. He surveyed the askew equipment, his tail whipping violently enough to slice the grass behind him like a scythe. Clarice frowned; clearly, he was still agitated from whatever pissed him off last week.

"Hey," she offered, "is there something you want to talk…?" Her gentle words were met with a dangerous look as Azazel glared over his shoulder at her. She huffed and held up her hands as if saying,  _fine, whatever._  She busied herself re-sorting the wooden swords. Frankly, she wasn't in the mood for Azazel's  _shit_  anyways. Last week he'd up and disappeared for  _three whole days_ , completely abandoning her. Thankfully she already struck-up a friendship with Kurt and his friend Jubilee, so she didn't feel totally alone, and until Dr. McCoy found her a room, Clarice crashed in Azazel's room since he obviously wasn't using it. She gave him an earful when he finally returned, but all Azazel did was mumble a half-assed apology and offered no explanation for his behavior. Clarice strongly suspected  _The Hero_  had something to do with his sour mood, but she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut on  _that_  topic.

She finished sorting the weapons and looked up, spotting Kurt in the distance. Clarice grinned and waved. At least she could count on  _him_  being in a good mood.

* * *

Kurt had a problem.

"And this is my  _favorite_  class," the indigo boy pointed ahead. He could see Clarice waving and Azazel near her, his arms crossed. "But it's not really a  _class_ , at least, not an academic one. More like an extra-curricular?"

"Or gym class with  _swords_ ," Wanda laughed, tucking a wayward maroon curl behind her ear. Kurt glanced away. He itched to be the one to sooth the hair behind Wanda's ear, but he didn't want to be that forward. "At least," Wanda continued, "my old high school had gym class, but it wasn't nearly as  _cool_  as this one. Also, I set fire to gym once, but on accident, when my powers kinda flipped out," she admitted sheepishly, her pale eyes darting over to see his reaction.

"We set the biology lab on fire a few weeks ago, but it was Scott's fault _,"_ Kurt grinned mischievously, his fangs gleaming. "Well,  _mostly_. Let's just say that teleporting around flames doesn't  _help_." Wanda snickered, making Kurt's lopsided smile grow. It still felt good to talk -  _joke_ , even - about his mutation without feeling ashamed.

Thanks to Clarice's quick thinking, Kurt spent a whole  _two hours_  talking with Wanda over lunch last week. At first she had been shy, eating her pizza in silence, but Peter gently teased her until she laughed and Clarice asked her all kinds of questions to get her talking. The ball really started rolling when Wanda reached into her purse and a worn copy of Treasure Island tumbled out. Kurt could quote that title by heart, and it turned out to be Wanda's favorite book. Later that day Kurt went looking for Azazel to thank him - talking about books worked like a  _charm,_ even ending with  _Wanda_  suggesting they hang out again - but the red mutant was no where to be found. Kurt did find Raven and Dr. McCoy in the kitchen, but at the mention of Azazel, Raven bristled and Dr. McCoy suddenly looked uncomfortable. Kurt left them once again feeling like he did something wrong even though he knew he'd done  _nothing_  wrong at all.

Kurt hadn't breathed a word to anyone, but he was starting to suspected there was more to Raven and Azazel's story than the two let on. With everything he had seen and how hot and cold they got around each other, Kurt strongly believed that at one point, maybe they  _liked_  each other - maybe even more than he liked Wanda - and maybe it didn't work out. The curious part of Kurt badly wanted to ask the Professor or Clarice about his theory, as those two respectively knew Raven and Azazel best, but he felt uncomfortable prying into such a personal topic with two people he didn't know well well enough to ask. One day he'd work-up the courage to ask Azazel or Raven; he just had to figure out how to ask without being rude.

"Hi Blink!" Kurt greeted Clarice. Last week Clarice revealed that Blink was her nickname. Everyone at the school already called him Nighty, Crawler, or Elf. He wasn't sure how he got the last one, but he suspected Peter was behind it.

"Hey Crawly," Clarice smiled, her eyes gleaming happily. She nodded to Wanda. "Thinking about joining us today, Witchy?"

"Oh no," Wanda replied bashfully, "I wouldn't even know  _where_  to start." Kurt knew Peter bestowed Wanda's nickname - he'd been calling his baby sister _Scarlet Witch_  since she her powers manifested - and she loved her nickname. "Kurt invited me to watch, if that's cool?"

"Of course!" Clarice beamed. "We usually attract an audience, so you'll be in good company." Clarice tossed a wooden sword to Kurt, who caught it easily with his tail. He bowed as the girls clapped. Behind them, Azazel nodded approvingly. Kurt smiled proudly; it was a tail-trick Azazel had taught him and he finally mastered. Clarice waved for Kurt to step closer.

"Be my partner today," she dropped her voice so only he could hear. "I'll let you win a few rounds and it'll impress the heck out of your  _devotcka_." Clarice winked and Kurt couldn't stop grinning. He felt like a million bucks.

Halfway through practice, Kurt noticed Wanda waving to someone in the distance. He followed her gaze and was surprised to see Peter  _walking_  towards the class, trailed by a gaggle of young children like a row of ducklings. He turned to joke with Clarice, but stopped when he saw her biting her lip, looking at the odd procession rather pensively. Even Azazel had stopped to watch, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head before motioning for class to resume. Once Peter helped the last child take a seat, the speedster waved to them. Clarice turned back to Kurt, hefting her training sword and motioning for his advance. When he did, Kurt noticed she was smiling a little bit, too.

Kurt sighed; this was at the heart of his current problem. He really liked Wanda Maximoff, but he didn't know if she liked him as anything more than  _just a friend_. He wished he had it easy _,_ like Clarice and Peter. It was obvious that they liked each other.

* * *

Charles had a problem.

Sitting in the front seat of the rental car, her shoulder length auburn hair stirring gently in the breeze and a soft smile lighting up her face sat the most beautiful woman in the world: Moira MacTaggert. Charles smiled in a dreamy state, happily stealing glances at her in the rear-view mirror.

It had been twenty-one years  _too long_  since he had seen Moira in person, and words couldn't fully express how he felt to be this close to her again, even if she truly believed they had only just met two days prior at her office. In all honesty, Charles had lied to Alex when he told his friend that he'd only sought out Moira  _twice_  using Cerebro. The truth was that he had looked for Moira at least _twice a year_ ; once around every October 1 (the day they first met, or, what Charles liked to think of as their  _anniversary_ ), and again about six months later when he couldn't stand it anymore and had to see her. Each time she appeared, Charles's heart swelled as if he was falling in love all over again. The only time it was ever hard to see Moria was when she had been pregnant with Kevin. When she appeared restlessly pacing the dark hallway with one hand hand on her lower back and the other rubbing her heavily pregnant stomach, Charles felt hot tears slip down his face before he could look away. For weeks afterwards, all he could think was it should have been  _his_  child growing inside her, and it was  _his_  fault it was not.

As time marched on, Charles found he enjoyed seeing Moira interact with Kevin in Cerebro. As he watching over them through the years, he began to feel like Kevin's guardian angel. In time, he began to care about Kevin's well-being as if the boy was his own. It was this feeling that reared its head the day Charles sat in his office listening to Raven and Azazel fight over Kurt. While Charles didn't trust Azazel the first day he appeared at the school, he did recognize the emotion in Azazel's eyes as he made his case to get to know Kurt. Charles could sympathize and understand that raw love; in his heart, Charles knew he owed it to the father seated before him to have a chance to know his son. He would have given anything for the chance to know Kevin in person, even if he wasn't Charles' flesh and blood.

But no longer did Charles have to hide in the shadows of Cerebro. He was here, now, seated no more than a few feet from the woman who had walked away with his heart on a beach in Cuba. He finally had a real chance to change things, to make-up for the wrongs he committed in their past, and just maybe, to earn Moira's love in its own right.

"Ms. MacTaggert?" Alex Summers cleared his throat. Charles's paradise was interrupted as he caught Alex's smirk and sly wink in the rear-view mirror. He felt his face flush, but he shook his head and smiled back at Alex. Moira stirred, blinking her eyes rapidly to readjust to the bright sunlight. Alex offered an apologetic grin as he drove. "Sorry to bother you, Ms. MacTaggert, but we're almost there. I though you might to see the first view of the  _The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters_ that the students experience. The entry is pretty  _awesome_."

No sooner had Alex spoken than Moira gasped in wonderment. Charles smiled with pride as they drove past the school gates. The grounds were always impressive to newcomers, and it mattered very much to him what Moira thought of his legacy.

"It's truly an honor to be invited into the American mutant world like this," Moira chimed, twisting around to meet Charles's gaze. Her eyes were the color of chestnuts with silvers of gold sparking in them, and they glowing with anticipation. "I wish I could truly express how excited I am to be here."

 _I wish I could truly tell you how in love with you I am_ , _even after all these years,_  Charles thought wistfully. Instead, he cleared his throat as well.

"We spared no expense," Charles smiled warmly. "And really, the honor is ours. Not all humans are so understanding and looking to bridge the gap between our groups as you are, Ms. MacTaggert."

"Please, call me Moira," she said happily, turning around to view the school as the approached.

As the car pulled to a stop at the front entry, Charles sighed. Over the next few hours there would be tours, meetings and all kinds of activities that would prevent him from being alone with Moira. He couldn't wait to talk to her in private. He wished he had it easy, like his love-struck teenage students.

* * *

Raven had a problem.

"And then, you turn this knob here, and this..." Hank droned on, showing off his latest improvement to The Danger Room. Raven was sure that it was remarkable, like almost everything Hank created. Right now, however, the blue woman was finding it difficult to focus. She placated him by smiling and nodding at all the right cues, but internally, Raven was thankful once again that Hank's mutation wasn't telepathy.

An hour earlier she had checked in with her European contacts on a secure line. Living at Westchester or not, she needed to maintain her networks abroad or she'd risk losing the carefully curated connections she'd built over the past decade. While Raven's plan had been to bring Kurt safely to the  _Xavier School,_ she had never planned to remain there longer than a semester. Her plan had always been to settle him in and leave, continuing her work abroad. There was no place for her at  _Xavier School_  anymore; this was Charles's home now, not hers.

Raven's contacts gave her the usual updates, save for one mention that sat uneasy in the pit of her stomach. Her spy at Caliban's confided that during that strange earthquake two months prior, an incident unfolded where a Polish mill worker seemed to stop a structure from crushing his comrade using his mind alone, and this man was wanted by the Polish KGB for  _questioning_. The spy suggested this man may be a mutant and a prime rescue candidate. Raven agreed that the man needed help, but what she declined to mention was that she knew for a  _fact_  the man was a mutant. Raven knew because she recognized the false name of  _Henrky Gorzky_  as an old alias of Erik Lensherr.

The lead she had to work with wasn't promising: the incident happened months ago and Erik and his family were missing, presumed on the run since the Polish KGB were still looking for them. The trio could be anywhere in the Eastern Bloc by now, and for once, Charles would be little help in the search. Even using Cerebro, Charles had confided to Raven once that Erik's mind was one of the few he had difficulty pinpointing; the telepath might be able to give Raven a radius to search in, but that radius could be over a hundred miles. She'd ask his help of course, but she knew it would be a starting point at best. Despite this, in her heart Raven knew she had to try. Given their shared past and former allegiance, she owed it to Erik to come to his aid; if anything, Westchester could at least provide a safe haven for his family even if Erik remained on the run. Even Charles wouldn't argue with that.

To find Erik, Raven needed to go back into the Eastern Bloc, which wasn't going to be easy. She only dared to cross into the East before because Kurt's life was at stake. Going back meant certain death unless she could move like a shadow, unannounced and undetected. To accomplish this, she needed to know the layout of the land, she needed access to the current KGB safe houses, she need to know which guards could be trusted, which could be paid off and which to avoid, and most importantly, she needed to be able to vanish in a second's notice if things got really bad really fast.

In short, what Raven needed was  _Azazel_ , and convincing him to take her East to find Erik was going to be her biggest problem of all.


	20. Reunion

Clarice gritted her teeth as she collected the discarded training swords. Overall, class had gone well, but she was sorely disappointed in her own performance. Twice she became distracted, earning her not only a smack from Kurt's sword, but much harder one from Azazel's during a technique demonstration. Kurt's skills were advancing, and in spite of the bruise she could feel growing on her hip, she was proud of her indigo nephew. Azazel, on the other hand, seemed to be hard on her for no reason. She glanced over at the red mutant as she worked. He had his back to her and was showing Jubilee how to refine a move the girl had difficulty with during practice. Clarice bit her lip as she watched. She wasn't an  _idiot;_ she had caught the split-second sneer on his face just before he extended his hand to help her  _after_  he knocked her down during practice. Azazel always accused her of being  _too_  competitive, but it was moments like these that Clarice wanted to  _scream_ at him about how competitive he actually was.  _That man is so goddamn stubborn_ , Clarice shook her head.  _He just can't let himself lose._ It also didn't help that ever since Azazel returned from  _god-knows-where_ , he had a short fuse with everyone except Kurt, not to mention he always seemed to bristle whenever Peter dropped by their class. Whatever the red mutant's specific grievance against the speedster was, Clarice didn't even  _want_  to guess.

Clarice looked up again as she finished tying the swords in their bundle. Kurt was milling around a short distance away, engrossed in chatter with his peers. Peter stood among them, holding a little girl's hand and laughing with her as she twirled in a mock dance. Clarice recognized another teacher as she approach Peter, greeting him warmly as the group of young children flocked to her, only after a few gave Peter enthusiastic hugs and high fives. Why the speedster was hanging out with little kids was a mystery, but Clarice had to admit that it was kinda sweet. Suddenly, Peter broke away from his group and started walking towards Clarice, his signature grin plastered across his face. She stood, wiping her hands and steeling her expression; sweet or not, Clarice really wasn't in the mood for his antics, especially with Azazel right behind her...

" _Zdravstvuyte_ ," Peter said proudly, giving her a small, formal bow. "Um,  _kak pazhivayesh?_ " Surprised, Clarice tilted her head and blinked rapidly as she took in his words. The speedster had just addressed her in  _Russian_  and asked rather politely how she was.

"... _Ya khorosho, spasibo_ Peter," Clarice responded after a slight pause, an amused smile slowly growing on her face.  _I am well, thank you Peter_. Encouraged, his pale eyes lit up and he continued.

" _Ya lyublyu,_ um... _ya lyublyu_   _poyest' loshad'...petukh!_ " He beamed triumphantly.

" _Oh..._ " Clarice's emerald eyes grew wide and her hand darted to her mouth, stifling laughter. "Oh  _my._ " In a fairly decent accent, Peter just told her how much he enjoyed  _eating horse cock_ ; Clarice was fairly positive that whatever he was trying to communicate, that statement certainly was  _not_  it. Peter's proud grin wavered at her unexpected reaction.

"Wait, I can do this!" He rallied and clearing his throat, he tried again. " _Ya lyubluy_..."

"Yes, I understood you the first time," Clarice responded in English, holding up her hand to interrupt his rehearsed speech. Glancing over her shoulder, Clarice saw that while Azazel still had his back to her, he was no longer instructing Jubilee. Instead, the red mutant's head was bowed slightly and she could see his shoulders were quivering. _He's laughing_ , Clarice realized, frowning.

"Let me guess," she sighed, turning back to face Peter. "You asked Azazel to teach you that?" Clarice bit her lip as Peter nodded. If Azazel wanted to be an  _ass_  to her, then fine; she was used to his sense of humor. Peter certainly didn't deserve to be made a  _fool_  of for anyone's amusement.

"Sorry if my accent's terrible," he shrugged, his face blushing slightly. "I just wanted to  _impress_  you."

"Your accent is actually  _very_   _good_ , and I am impressed. And, you know what?" Clarice raised her voice, making sure Azazel could hear her. "I just found out that I  _am_  free later, if you still want to... _go out_?"

"Wait,  _really_?" Peter's mouth hung open in disbelief, and he wore an expression of shock like he had just won the lottery. "Ok,  _wow_! I honestly didn't think that was going to work, but um...yeah, wanna meet me in an hour and we'll...?"

" _Nyet."_ Before Peter could finish, Clarice felt a hand come down hard on her shoulder. Azazel was suddenly standing next to her, no longer laughing at the little joke he played. The red mutant stared at Peter with a hard expression, and the speedster took a small step away from him. "Clarice is  _busy_. She has to do... _things_. All afternoon. Very  _busy_."

"...But  _after_  that," Clarice shrugged off Azazel's hand, "I'm  _free_." Azazel's icy eyes met hers, growing wide for a second before narrowing. Clarice knew he was used to her teasing him, but Big Brother wasn't used to her  _defying_  him.

"Ok, fantastic!" Peter beamed, oblivious to their stare-down. "So, meet me at 6 PM in the main foyer? And don't worry, I'll plan  _everything._ It'll be super fun!"

"It's a  _date_ , then," Clarice confirmed.

"Alright!" He grinned at her like an idiot as he snapped on his goggles before giving her an awkward thumbs up. "See you later alligator!" Clarice heard him mumble  _wow_  once more before he zipped away. Turning back to Azazel, she barely opened her mouth before he started laying in on her.

"You are  _not_  going out with him," Azazel dropped his voice, chiding her in Chechen. Clarice felt a slight burn of embarrassment when she saw a few teens glancing over, curious as to what the two were arguing about in the foreign tongue. "He's  _dangerous_. He's..."

"He's  _what_? An  _asshole_ , like you've been to everyone this past week?" She snapped back in his foreign tongue, glaring viciously at him. The red mutant stood up straight, tilting his head and looking surprised. Clarice rarely raised her voice in anger against him, but right now, she was  _pissed_. Azazel might not like Peter, but he had  _no right_  to tell her what she could and couldn't do.

"He's..." Azazel began again.

"Look I get it, Ok?" Clarice cut him off. "You don't  _like_  Peter. Maybe he's is a little annoying, but you know what? He's been nothing but  _nice_  to me and to you since we've been here! And just because you're pissed about something you won't even talk about doesn't give you the right to be a  _dick_  to me or to anyone else!"

"He's Mag..."

"What has gotten into you?" Clarice continued, now jabbing a finger at him. At this point several students were looking nervously at them. Chechen or not, it didn't take a translator to see that they were having quite a row. "That was really  _mean_ , teaching Peter to say that in Russian. You should be  _ashamed_  of yourself!"

" _You_  should  _not_  be around him!" Azazel threw out his hands as if making a point.

"Why?" Clarice looked at him challengingly. "Give me one  _damn_  reason..."

"He is  _Magneto's_   _son_!"

"Magneto...?" Clarice raised an eyebrow. That name sounded familiar, but she couldn't immediately place it. She shook her head. "What the  _fuck_  does that matter?"

"Maybe I will let Charles tell you why the  _fuck_  that matters!" With that, Azazel seized her arm and they melted into smoke and fire.

* * *

"And this way leads to my office," Charles smiled warmly as he glanced over his shoulder, leading the way while Moira and Alex trailed behind him. "Perhaps can meet privately to discuss…" No sooner did the words escape Charles' lips than he saw Raven round the corner, walking with such urgency she was almost running. Hank appeared almost immediately behind her, holding his arms out as if he was trying to pull her back.

"Charles!" Raven's voice came at a bark. "We need to…" She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Moira, almost causing Hank to collide with her.

"Raven, please; we have a  _guest_."  _Raven, please_ not _now,_ Charles sent a telepathic plea. Raven's false blue eyes met Charles's, filled with surprise.  _I promise I will explain everything later._ Thankfully, for once Raven bit her lip instead of speaking, and she was wearing her blonde disguise. Since arriving at the school, Charles had only seen his sister in her natural blue skin a handful of times, mainly because she said she didn't want the students to recognize her as  _The Hero_. Charles suspected her appearance also had to do with Kurt's presence, but he declined to ask specifics. The telepath had never told Raven the extent of his situation with Moira. His sister had no idea that Moira didn't remember her, or any of the original X-Men; frankly, Charles knew that given their shaky history with government allegiances, Raven would be apprehensive about a CIA agent being inside the school. He planned to tell her about Moira's arrival after he had a chance to speak with her privately, but Raven's untimely interruption took that opportunity off the table.

At the sound of Raven's name, however, Moira smiled reflexively.

"Raven, was it? You must be Charles's sister." Moira moved forward, extending a friendly hand to Raven. "I'm Agent MacTaggert, but you can call me…"

" _Moira_?" Azazel appeared just in front of the office door. Clarice appeared with him, and Charles noted that Azazel's hand was firmly on the girl's arm. The red mutant was staring at Moira in bewilderment. "What are you doing...?"

" _Don't you_ dare _fucking teleport me without my permission!_ " Clarice seethed, yanking her arm roughly out of Azazel's grip. Moira gasped and her face flooded with fear. Before Charles could make heads or tails of the sudden ensemble outside his office, Moira pull her side-arm and trained it on Azazel.

" _FREEZE!_ "

Everything happened faster than Charles had the power to stop it.

Azazel put up his hands as if surrendering, but a wicked smile grew on his face. Raven jumped in front of him, Hank's fight or flight reflex bristled into fur, and Alex lit up as a strange magenta light blinded the room. Suddenly, Clarice stepped out of the magenta light just behind Moira, her short swords draw and held taut against Moira's neck.

"You even  _think_  about pulling that trigger..." Clarice hissed as she flexed her swords, making her the rest of her point clear against Moira's neck. From her position, all it would take would be the twist of her wrists to separate Moira's head from her body. Charles blinked rapidly, processing what he just saw. He didn't even know Clarice was  _capable_  of teleporting. It seemed like he was going to have to have a little chat with Azazel and see if there was anything else he should know about his  _Little Sister_.

 _Alex, Hank,_ Charles put his fingers to his temple _, get ready_.

Moira exhaled slowly and dropped her weapon. No sooner did Moira's gun land than Clarice's eyes closed and she pitched backwards, her swords sliding out of her hands. Hank darted for Moira's weapon while Alex leaped forward, catching Clarice as she collapsed. Azazel teleported across the room, immediately pulling Clarice away from Alex. Her head lulled onto her shoulder, and despite Azazel lightly slapping her face, the girl didn't respond.

"What did you do to her?" Azazel glared at Charles. The look on his face was wild, something married between anger and fear.

"She's just asleep. She's fine. She's  _fine_." Charles repeated in light of the pained look on Azazel's face. Charles had hit Clarice with a psychic block a bit harder than he intended, but he panicked when the girl put her swords to Moira's  _neck_. Clarice might have a slight headache for a day but otherwise she'd recover. After a few seconds, her eyes fluttered slightly. She mumbled something in Russian and Azazel responded quickly, his tone quiet reassuring as he picked her up. Raven moved forward and grabbed Clarice by her feet. Together, they moved the girl to the couch in Charles's office, where she immediately fell back into sleep. Azazel knelt on the floor next to her, ignoring everyone else as they moved into the office. Raven watched them with crossed arms, a pensive look on her face. Charles wondered as he wheeled to the head of the room if Azazel realized that for a split second, his sister had thrown herself between Moira's bullet and his heart.

Moira stormed in the room behind Charles. She took a few gulping breaths before pointing at Azazel, her confused eyes now trained on Charles as if searching him for an explanation.

"Do you  _know_  who that is?" Charles opened his mouth but Moira cut him off. "That's Ivarr Preo...Preobrazhen..sky."

"And that is why I never took your last name," Raven mumbled, shaking her head. Despite his concern for Clarice, Azazel smirked slightly.

"He's a  _wanted_  KGB operative!" Moira exclaimed. "Charles, please tell me you're not harboring  _fugitives_  here...?"

" _No!_  Certainly  _not!_ " This is not how Charles intended any of his discussion with Moira to go. The agent continued to look at him, outraged. "This is a school, and that's besides the point of..."

"She does have a point Charles," Raven shrugged, melting her skin into its natural state. Moira gasped and took a step back, her hands covering her mouth. " _Technically_ , I'm on the run, too."

"Your  _sister_  is  _Mystique_?" Moira looked incredulously at Charles. " _What_  is going on here?"

 _Everybody just_ calm _down_ , Charles sent a telepathic message to the room. All eyes turned to Charles as he pinched the bridge of his nose and counted backwards from ten. He had untie this mess out from the base of its knot.

"How..." Charles addressed Azazel and Moira directly, "can you possibly... _know_  each other?"  _Remember_ , was the word Charles wanted to say, but Moira wouldn't have  _remembered_  Azazel. The telepath made certain that Moira wouldn't remember any of them when he wiped clean her memories twenty-one years ago.

"Your  _devotchka_  has been on my tail for years," Azazel shrugged as the spade of his tail smacked the ground, as if making its own point. "Well, not  _on_  tail actually, more like symbolic."

"She is not my  _devotchka_ ," Charles stammered, feeling his face flush. Azazel's eyes lit up mischievously and he opened his mouth.  _Do not push me, my friend_ , Charles glared at him. The red mutant sighed, seeming to rethink his next statement.

"Agent Levine and I have tracked  _his_ ," Moira glared at Azazel, "particular KGB cell for years. They recruit and use mutants as operatives. We've been close to catching you a few times, you know."

"I let you  _think_  you were close," Azazel snorted at her shaking his head. "You don't live as long as I do not knowing exactly who and where your  _enemies_  are." He shot Moira a wolfish grin. "You look well, Moira. How is your Kevin?"

" _Fuck you_ ," Moira hissed through her teeth. She made to grab her side arm again before remembering that Hank had it. Charles signed. He knew Azazel well enough that the man would never harm a child - he doubted the man would have actually hurt Moira, for that matter - but he didn't appreciate their little cat and mouse game, either.

 _Everyone let's just be calm and have a seat_. Slowly, the group found seats in the office. Charles wheeled to the front, his eyes locked on Azazel.  _Bate her one more time and I will make you chase your tail like a dog for the next two days_. Azazel scowled and turned back to Clarice.

"Apparently we  _all_  have to talk," Charles frowned as he watched Moira take her seat, looking appalled at everyone in the room. This is certainly not how he anticipated his evening going, but then again, there were so many things he didn't anticipate when he started the school. He looked at the cast of characters assembled in his office an sighed.

 _Maybe it was time the_  Xavier School _had a drama program; we certainly had enough source material for one._


	21. Date Night

" _Nyet_."

" _Nyet_?" Raven echoed, unable to hide the disappointment edging into her voice. "Is that a definite  _nyet_  or...?"

"Absolutely  _nyet_ ," Azazel clarified, crossing his arms tightly. He sat on his bed, glaring at Raven as she stood a few feet away. Several hours earlier, the two were downstairs listening Charles and Alex elaborate on their suspicions surrounding the mysterious earthquake and Moira's own research into the mutant-worshiping  _Sect of Nur_ , who may be positioning themselves as a real threat if the myths surrounding them proved true. It all sounded like the plot of a bad, dime-store science-fiction novel, but if Charles was concerned, that was enough to make Raven pay attention. Before they disbanded, Charles somehow coerced a  _cease-fire_  between Moira and Azazel. How many telepathic threats he had to use to secure that truce, Raven didn't care to guess. The blue woman couldn't blame Azazel for his distrust of that woman; Raven had never been fond of Moira, but it was news to her that Moira and her partner had been tracking the very KGB cell that Raven had once worked for. One of these days Raven was also going to ask Charles why,  _exactly_ , Moira didn't  _remember_  anyone from the old days, but right now, Raven had bigger windmills to joust.

Presently, she stood in Azazel's room pleading her case to go East in search of Erik. She had secretly trailed Azazel after the meeting in Charles's office, and she asked for a private discussion the second she caught him alone. So far, though, it seemed like her words were falling on deaf ears.

"What are you thinking, asking this of me?" Azazel dropped his head to his hands, rubbing his face vigorously in frustration. "Go into Eastern Bloc?  _Together_? Might as well sign own  _death warrants!"_

"Zaz, something's  _wrong,_ _"_ Raven argued. "Erik's one of  _us_ , and he needs  _our_  help."

" _Erik_ ," Azazel scoffed under his breath, making Raven frown. She knew Azazel wasn't exactly a fan of Erik, not after his brief time in the Brotherhood (and, to be honest, maybe a little because Erik and Raven had been  _involved_  before she and Azazel became a couple), but she hoped Azazel would be moved by the fact that Erik was a former comrade and a fellow mutant in trouble. He looked back up at her, this time through splayed fingers. For a second, Raven caught herself fixated on the intensity of his coloration.  _What are the odds that someone with such dark red skin would have such light blue eyes?_ She was wearing her own natural skin, a tactic she knew would work in her favor. Azazel had never liked her wearing a disguise any longer than necessary, and if she was attempting an appeal to his sense of  _mutant solidarity_ , she couldn't exactly hide while making her case.

" _Nyet,_ " Azazel repeated, refolding his arms. "You think you were so clever, last time, when you went for Kurt? KGB  _knew_  were you in the East, Raven. You are  _lucky_  you found way out before they found you, as I am  _lucky nyet_  person saw us  _together_  in Berlin!"

Raven swallowed hard, drumming her fingertips on her elbow. She didn't know her presence had gone noticed when she rescued Kurt; she truly thought she had skated under the radar. Part of Raven wondered if what Azazel said was true, of if he was exaggerating to drive home his point. Either way, their conversation was not going in the direction she wanted.

"Stay out of the Bloc Raven," Azazel shook his head, making a show of his final decision. "Let  _Magneto_  fight his  _own_  battles."

"That's just it," she was losing ground fast, and had to switch tactics, "it's not his  _own_  battle, at least, not anymore. Erik has a  _wife_  and a  _child_  now. Did you know that?" Azazel continued his passive stare, but Raven saw his tail twitch just enough to know she had sparked his attention. "I found that out a few years ago. A  _daughter_ , Azazel. She's only  _seven_ years old. Wasn't that about the same age Clarice was when you adopted...?"

" _Stop_ ," Azazel snarled, standing suddenly and extending a finger in warning, but Raven pushed recklessly forward.

"...when you adopted her? What would you do if it was  _Clarice_ , or  _Kurt,_ who needed...?" Before she could finish, Azazel seized Raven by her shoulder, leaning in until his face was mere inches from hers.

" _Do not. Use my son. Against me._ " He hissed, squeezing her shoulder just hard enough to make her wince. His tone was dangerous, and something malicious flashed in his eyes when he spoke. For a second, Raven was reminded of all the reasons she had feared Azazel when she first laid eyes on him, but she held his gaze defiantly, determined not to show her fright. Just as quickly as he grabbed her, Azazel let go, turning away and raking his fingers through his hair, seeming agitated that she forced a reaction out of him.

"I'm going,  _with_  or  _without_  your help," Raven concluded, rubbing her arm. Still with his back to her, Azazel dropped his face into his hands again, this time exhaling loudly.

"When?"

"I'll need to get a few things ready here, find someone to take over my class, then get a few things in place with my European contacts. I'll also need..."

" _When,_ Raven?" His voice echoed against his palms.

"A few days, tops."

"Promise you will find me again, before you leave?"

"Find you? Why?" Raven raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress the hope in her voice. He looked at her over his shoulder.

"Find me so I have one more chance to talk some  _sense_  into you,  _devotchka_."

" _Fine_ ," Raven turned to leave. Her request was futile; there was no way Azazel was going to take her East. She was on her own, and a solo mission was going to be damn near impossible. With Azazel, she would have had a much better chance. Just as her fingertips brushed the doorknob, something stayed her hand. She frowned, glancing down to see a bright red tail coiled around her wrist. For a second, Raven thought back to the few days of Kurt's life. As a baby, he'd wrap his tail around her wrist almost instinctively when she held him, the same way his father had done whenever he wanted Raven's attention, and even sometimes for no reason when they were alone. For years after giving up Kurt, Raven would startle awake at night in a cold sweat, swearing she could feel something wrapped around her wrist.

"I saw what you did," Azazel's tail slipped away as he turned to face her. "Back in the office."

"And just what do you think I did?" But Raven knew exactly what Azazel was referring too; part of her felt stupid for putting herself between a  _teleporter_  and a gun, but she had acted without thinking.  _Because apparently, I still care_. The thought suddenly made her very angry in light of the fact he was outright  _refusing_  to help her.  _  
_

"Moira would _nyet_  have shot me," Azazel held her gaze steady. "That is  _nyet_  who she is. And, had she pulled trigger, I would have vanished before bullet came."

"Yeah well," Raven steeled herself, "You could have have said  _thank you_ , you know? I guess at least one of us _still cares_  if the other one  _dies_." It was a low-blow, but Raven was hurt, and the pain made her want to hurt him back. Azazel narrowed his eyes.

" _Get out_ ," he growled. Turning on her heels, Raven let the door slam behind her.

* * *

Azazel winced as the door shut loudly in the wake of Raven's departure. That certainly wasn't how he expected their conversation to go, not when she practically jumped out of the shadows thirty minutes before, seizing him by the arm and demanding that he take her to  _his_   _bedroom_. Raven was lucky he didn't  _stab_  when when she surprised him; he was already on edge after seeing  _Moira MacTaggert_ in the school and learning that she'd be  _staying_  at there for a few days. There was  _no way_  he could stay in his own room now, not with her under the same roof. Cease-fire or not, Azazel didn't  _any_  CIA agent not to take advantage of apprehending a high-level KGB operative when the opportunity presented itself, practically on a silver platter at that.  _Might as well go knock on her door, hand her all my weapons and a set of handcuffs,_ mused Azazel sarcastically. Not that handcuffs would do anything against his mutation, but still. Azazel took a deep breath, still in a state of disbelief at his present circumstances. He grabbed the bottle of vodka he kept inside the nightstand, unscrewing the cap and tossing it on his bed. He didn't even bother looking for a glass. After everything that happened, he  _needed_  a drink.

As the liquid burned his throat, he though about the chance he had to get rid of Moira permanently a few years back, when the CIA raided a Soviet club fronting a black-market munitions operation. Azazel had traced a target to the club, and he happened to be stalking in the catwalk shadows when the CIA poured in. He recognized Moira and Levine almost immediately from their run-ins earlier that year. Azazel had enjoyed watching the firefight; he only decided to leave when an actual fire broke out. Just before he vanished, he spotted Moira lying unconscious, trapped under fallen debris on the floor. She should have died there, but something made Azazel teleport her outside, dumping her unceremoniously on the ground and disappearing before her American comrades could even raise their guns. Opposing sides or not, the truth was that Azazel  _respected_  Moira. The woman proved herself to be tough as a hammer and she had to fight hard to get to where she was in a world run by men. She deserved a better death than smoke inhalation, lying on the floor of some seedy club.

 _It also doesn't exactly hurt that Moira's accent in Russian is really,_ really _cute,_ Azazel mused, smiling to himself. He easily could see why Charles was enamored such a strong, beautiful woman, once he made the connection that Moira was indeed the  _devotchka_ Charles was pinned over. Charles seemed to care for Moira as much as Azazel did for Raven, and...

 _Raven._  Azazel shook his head as if to banish their entire conversation. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he expected from her anymore, but it certainly wasn't her latest request. She was crazy to think he would  _willingly_  take her into the Eastern Bloc, putting them  _both_  in a position for the KGB to kill them as traitors. She had no idea how close she was to being found the last time, and he only overlooked her erratic behavior because of Kurt. Now she wanted to go back, and for  _Magneto,_ of all people? The last time Raven and Magneto were in the same place, Azazel saw the outcome on TV.  _She shot him. In the neck. Now she wants to risk her life for his?_  Azazel took another drink.  _Unbelievable_.

And, he only had a few days to talk her out of going. Why couldn't she see that he  _did_ care if she died? That's exactly why Azazel didn't want her to go. This was his way of jumping in front of a bullet, only this bullet had already been fired.

 _Magneto_ , Azazel clenched his jaw. The leader who only led them down rabbit holes. Who put the entire Brotherhood in direct danger more times than Azazel could count. Who couldn't pull any weight at the Hellfire Club even though it was  _Magneto_  who called for the rescue of Emma Frost. Who was his wife's  _ex-lover_  who she now wanted  _him_  to help rescue. Who was partially responsible for Azazel's fight with Little Sister by fathering that  _glupyy_  Maximoff kid in the first place...

Azazel knew his last angry thought was a kind of a stretch, but right now, he didn't care. Everything he had build for the last few months at Westchester felt like it was crumbling around him. First Clarice getting righteous with him, then Charles getting his pants in a knot over the CIA woman, and now Raven being snarky because she needed to go East and he refused to help her get herself killed.

At least he still had Kurt to count on during this whole mess.  _My son_ , Azazel thought. Maybe it was time to finally tell him...

 _Time_.

Azazel glanced at a nearby clock. The light blinked 5:57 PM. Clarice would be meeting with  _Magneto's son_  in just a few minutes. He glowered and took another long drink, wondering how many more people he would  _piss off_  before this day was over.

* * *

"...then the Velveteen Rabbit asked,..."

"Ms. Clarice? Peter Pan  _likes_  you," the girl named Luna interrupted Clarice with the brash, innocent honesty that only little children can get away with. Clarice lowered the picture book, amused at the child's boldness. The small audience sitting in the semi-circle around her giggled at Luna's outburst. Clarice looked across the playroom and saw Peter slowly spinning in a circle with his arms held wide as two as two older children hung off him, their feet dangling just above the ground.

"Does he now?" Clarice asked playfully. Luna nodded solemnly before motioning for Clarice to lean down. She cupped her tiny hands around Clarice's ear.

"You  _like_  him too," she whispered. "I can see it in your  _colors_." Clarice sat back and tilted her head, grinning at Luna as she puzzled what the girl means by  _her_   _colors_. All of the children in the  _Xavier School's_  kindergarten already display mutations - many physical as well as invisible - and Clarice didn't know half of what the children could do. Peter warned her before they walked into the room that most of the children were too young to fully control their abilities, so she had to be ready for an accidental zap or possibly a nip from the more feral children. Clarice didn't know what to expect when it turned out their date started with  _playing_  with the school youngest students while their full-time caregivers took a dinner break.

All Clarice really knew was that more than anything, she wished there had been somewhere like this when she was a little girl.

* * *

An hour earlier, Clarice had stood in the kindergarten doorway, utterly transfixed. Her head still ached from the psychic block Charles inflicted earlier, but the pain was slight. The KGB employed a few telepaths, so she did have some training in blocking mental attacks. Clarice's borrowed green dress felt foreign against her skin, and she soothed its pleats as she surveyed the room. Shortly before meeting Peter, Jubilee and Jean appeared at Clarice's door, bearing dresses and make-up and more excitement that Clarice had for her  _own_  date. It seemed that word traveled fast around the school (especially, as Clarice suspected, if that word traveled from Peter's mouth), but in the end, Clarice was grateful; getting ready for a date was the most normal teenage experience she ever had, even if she was already twenty-four years old. Clarice was surprised to find Peter looking more cleaned-up than usual as he stood waiting in the foyer, although that only meant combed hair and a t-shirt with a picture of a tuxedo cumberbun on it under his gunmetal jacket.

"Wow, Clarice! You look... _wow!_ " Peter grinned as he held out his arm.  _At least he didn't bring me flowers_ , Clarice thought, smiling and slipping her arm through his. One  _friendly_  date with Peter was fine, but she didn't want things to get awkward or give him the wrong idea in the long run. Peter walked her down a few hallways on the first level, and they eventually stopped at an unfamiliar door.

As it turns out, Charles found a great reason for the speedster to remain at the school; Peter was the official part-time assistant in the school's kindergarten, which meant he helped with the children a few hours each day to give the full-time teachers and caregivers time off for meals and rest. He was downright a natural at it, and the children loved having their very own  _Peter Pan_ ; a boy who never quite grew-up.

"Where did all these children come from?" Clarice counted as she asked. There were only about a dozen children in the room, but they ranged in ages from toddlers to somewhere about eight or nine years. Until earlier that day when she saw Peter on his little field trip with the children, she didn't even know the  _Xavier School_  took in students that young. From the little she knew about other people's mutations, it seemed rare for one to manifest before twelve or thirteen years in age.

"Foster care and orphanages, mostly," Peter shrugged. He motioned to little boy with orange, reptilian skin who was crawling towards a ball that one of the older girls was waving. The child looked no older than three. "Some of them are born that way, and their parents just abandon them. They end up in the system and the Professor and Hank - er, Dr. McCoy - have a few contacts that will alert them about mutant children, and arrange for them to come here. If they're lucky, their parents will bring them straight to the school, like our little Humberto over there. I call him Bert."

" _Lucky_?" Clarice frowned, watching the girl reward the baby with a hug when he reached her. He laughed, his eyes blinking with a third lid like a lizard's. "What's lucky about being  _abandoned_  by your family?"

"Ok, maybe  _lucky_  isn't the right word," Peter backtracked. "But, let's say a kid is born and it's obvious that the kid is a mutant, like Bert. There's a chance that the hospital staff will take the baby away, or the parents will freak and refuse to take it home. America's a better place than most for mutants, but there's still a lot of prejudice, especially in really small towns and suburbs. So, let's say the kid gets put the foster care system. There's a good chance that they'll be the only mutant in there, isolated and made to feel bad for being different, and still abandoned by their family. Or, the kid goes home with parents who don't want a mutant kid, and ends up feeling just as isolated and bad because their parents are tools. Or," Peter puts his arms out, motioning to the room at large, "those kids can end-up here, maybe without their blood family but at least with a  _mutant family_  and they can grow up feeling like they're somebody and they have a chance, you know? Having a parent detest you for what you are..." Peter paused, frowning. "Well, let's just say it  _sucks_. These kids deserve the chance to grow up, and be just kids."

Clarice nodded quietly in agreement. When the little girl brought Bert over to say hi, Clarice sneaked a glance at Peter, wondering where he hid this deeper side and why it suddenly manifested. His silver eyes lit up when Bert reached for him, and he took the baby into his arms like he was a natural.

"Come on," Peter extended a free hand to Clarice. "Let me introduce you to my  _favorite_  little dudes and dudettes."

* * *

"See you tomorrow, Moony!" Peter whispered, waving enthusiastically to the night-shift caregiver Danielle Moonstar. She smiled as the pair left the kindergarten two hours later, just after bedtime. Clarice really enjoyed tucking the children in and listening to Peter read them a bedtime story, even if he riled a few of them up by overly acting out parts of his namesake,  _Peter Pan_.

"That was  _amazing!_ " Clarice gushed, making the smile on Peter's face seem to glow.

"You're welcome to visit the kids anytime. Danielle loved you, and so did the kids. You're really good with them." Clarice smiled at his compliment. She always did like little kids.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that offer."

"So, if you liked that," Peter stopped and turned to face her, "then I think you're gonna love what I got planned next, and...wait, what's so  _funny_?" He gave her a sideways look as she started giggled, her hand over her mouth.

"It's your hair, it's just..." Peter's hair - so meticulously styled earlier - now had a very loose, very lopsided braid on side from one of the little girls, most likely Rahne. Peter started combing it roughly with his fingers, but without thinking, Clarice reached up and gently unwound the braid herself. Her fingers accidentally brushed the side of Peter's face as she did so.

"There, all fixed," she grinned. Clarice noticed that Peter's cheeks were bright pink and for once, he seemed lost for words. She cleared her throat. "So, you were saying? You have planned...?"

"Yes, right!" Peter recovered, nodding as he snapped his goggles in place. "Stay here for two minutes, Ok? I gotta...well, I'll be right back. Two minutes, tops." He held up two fingers in illustration. "Time me!"

True to his word, he zipped away and zipped back in just under two minutes. Smiling triumphantly, he thrust a second pair of goggles at Clarice. She took them, raising an eyebrow.

"Dare I ask what you have in store,  _Mr. Pan_?"

" _Quicksliver Express_ , at your sevice,  _m'lady_!" Peter spouted in a mock British accent, bowing dramatically. He then moved just behind Clarice, placing his hands gently on her lower back and neck as she adjusted her goggles. "Please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. Also I have to hold your neck or you'll get whiplash." Clarice nodded, but it didn't escape her notice that for all his comedy, Peter's fingers trembled slightly when he touched her.

"Just don't get me killed, speedster," Clarice smirked.

"Well, you know what they say," Peter snickered, starting to push them forward. "To die would be an  _awfully_  big adventure!"

Joyful laughter echoed through the school hallways as Clarice felt her body fly, moving faster than light; it wasn't until they stopped that Clarice realized the sound had come from her.


	22. Green Light

"I just don't get why she's  _mad_ ," Scott huffed, tossing up his hands. "It's not like I  _actually_   _kissed_  another girl, you know? All I said was that if I was  _dared_  to kiss another girl, I'd have to do it or I'd lose the game. Heck, if I was dared to kiss a  _boy,_  I'd have to. It's  _just_  a game!"

Kurt nodded as he ambled alongside his friend. A few hours earlier the indigo boy sat prisoner in his own room as Jean and Scott's argument over the rules of  _Truth or Dare?_  heated to the point of yelling. Kurt wasn't very familiar with the game, and it certainly didn't seem like much fun if it all it did was make his friends fight. The only part of playing  _Truth or Dare?_  that appealed to him was the idea of convincing Wanda to play and then getting one of his friends to dare Wanda to kiss him. Judging by Scott's conclusion, she'd pretty much have to or she'd lose, but according to Jean, if Wanda decided to kiss him instead of lose, that must mean that she'd  _have_  to like him a little, right? At least he'd know. Eventually, Jean stormed out of Kurt's room and took Jubilee with her, leaving Kurt and Scott to spend the rest of their evening brainstorming all the ways Scott could apologize.

The evening was growing late, but the boys still had a good half hour before their curfew; plenty of time to snag a late-night snack. As they walked into the school's kitchen, Kurt really hoped there were some of those chocolate cupcakes with the white icing left; those were the  _best_.

"Hey, Mr. A!" Scott exclaimed, snapping Kurt out of his Hostess-induced fantasy. Kurt was surprised to see Azazel standing in the kitchen. He didn't often see the man randomly around the school; outside of training practice, Azazel pretty much kept to himself unless he was with Kurt or Clarice.

" _Mal'chikov!_ " The red mutant greeted the boys as he grabbed an apple off the counter. He took a bite and gave the teens a quizzical look. "Is Saturday  _night_. Why you not out with  _devotchkas_?"

"My girl and I got into a  _fight_ ," Scott grumped as he walked to the pantry.

"And I'm here for emotional support and cupcakes!" Kurt said brightly, taking a seat at the table closest to Azazel.

"There are cupcakes?" Azazel frowned at his apple.

"There  _were_  cupcakes," Scott sighed as he walked back, tossing a bag of Oreos to Kurt. "Sorry Crawler, but it looks like someone cleaned out all the Hostess boxes,  _again_." Azazel pulled a chair up across from the boys, listening attentively as Kurt illustrated the finer points of twisting apart Oreos and Scott recounted his earlier fight with Jean.

" _Women_ ," the red mutant rolled his eyes, " _amiright_?" His tenor of his voice made Kurt raise an eyebrow. Azazel's accent was pretty heavy, but tonight it sounded as if his words were running together a little. He also seemed to be blinking more than usual, as if he was having trouble focusing, just like Kurt did in math class. After Scott's story, Azazel got a funny look on his face and motioned for the boys to stay put. He vanished, but reappeared seconds later holding a half-empty bottle. He put the bottle on the table, and Scott sat up suddenly as Azazel walked to the cupboard.

"No way! Is that  _really_...?" Azazel made a quick shushing motion but smiled at Scott's excitement. Kurt turned the bottle around. The label was in Russian, so he unscrewed the top. Whatever was inside smelled an awful lot like the medicine from Latvia.

"What is this?" Kurt asked as Azazel placed three small glasses on the table.

" _Liquid courage_ ," he snickered, filling the glasses. He held up a finger in warning. "Do  _nyet_  ever tell Professor. This is  _secret_  thing between me and my  _best_  students,  _da?_ " Azazel held a glass aloft.

"To nights you  _nyet_  remember and friends you  _nyet_  forget!" The boys touched their glasses to his. Scott threw his drink back easily, but Kurt coughed as the liquid burned its way to his stomach. Somehow, it was  _worse_  than what he remembered drinking in Latvia. Before he put his glass down, Azazel refilled it and pointed at Scott.

"Ok, here's one Alex and his army buddies say," Scott cleared his throat and help up his glass. "Here's to you and here's to me, friends for life we'll always be; but if we should ever disagree...well then,  _fuck you_ , here's to  _me_!" Scott clinked his glass with Azazel as the man roared with laughter.

" _Da_ , that is  _good!_  I will remember!" Kurt closed his eyes and drank as fast as he could. He didn't think that last toast was very nice, even if he could see why it was kinda funny. The second drink actually wasn't as bad as the first one, and it went down a lot easier. His head was starting to buzz almost pleasantly. When he opened his eyes, his glass was full again, and Azazel and Scott were looking at him patiently.

"What?"

"Dude, it's your turn to toast," Scott nudged. Kurt bit his lip, thinking. He didn't really know any proper toasts. The only thing he could think of was...

"Um, ' _Mutant and Proud_ '?" Kurt offered, holding his glass in the air.

"Yes!" Scott slapped the table and smiling, he downed his shot. Azazel paused just as the glass touched his lips. He looked at Kurt pensively.

"Where did you learn that?"

"Raven said it last week in class," Kurt shrugged. "I thought it sounded cool." Azazel nodded but looked a bit sullen. He drank his shot and slammed the glass on the table while Scott giggled.

"What's wrong?" Kurt frowned as Azazel reached for the bottle. "Did you and Raven get into a fight or something?"  _Again_ , Kurt almost added. It seemed like every week he wasn't sure if he should mention one's name around the other.

"Fight?  _Nyet!_ " Azazel laughed, waving his hand as if to brush off Kurt's concern. All of a sudden, he stopped laughing and looked at Kurt seriously. "Why? Did she say something about me?"

" _Shit_ , someone's coming!" Scott whispered, pushing the empty glasses at Azazel. The red mutant vanished with the evidence just as footsteps approached the doorway. Wanda appeared and startled, apparently not expecting to find anyone else still up. Kurt's heart leaped into his throat and Oreos he had eaten swirled uncomfortably in his stomach.

"Hey guys, I was just..." she was interrupted by Azazel's sudden appearance next to her at the sink. Wanda jumped back and Azazel looked at her in confusion before snapping his fingers.

" _Wendy_!" The red smiled widely, leaning towards her.

"It's  _Wanda_ ," Kurt corrected Azazel, frowning.  _Gott in Himmel, what was wrong with him?_

"Oh  _da_ , yes," Azazel nodded, thrusting his hand on the counter next to him, as if trying to steady himself. " _Da_.  _Wanda._ That's right. That's the girl you like. I remember now."

Everything in the universe came to a grinding halt as Kurt stared at Azazel,  _mortified_. Part of him offered a silent prayer to Saint Jude that somehow, Wanda hadn't heard what Azazel just said. But when Kurt looked at Wanda, her eyes were wide like a deer trapped in headlights and red sparks crackled at her fingertips.

" _I was just getting some water but I'll go now_ ," Wanda whispered quickly to no one. She turned and bolted from the kitchen, leaving her water bottle overflowing in the sink.

"Wendy, you forget your water!" Azazel called after her.

"Dude,  _go!_ " Scott pushed Kurt. "Go talk to her!" Talking to Wanda was the  _last_  thing Kurt wanted to do; what he really wanted to do was punch Azazel right in his face. Either that or slide under the table and die right there in the kitchen. Maybe they could serve those awesome cupcakes at his funeral.

But, Scott was right. If Kurt didn't try to straighten things out now, it would be awkward  _forever_. He summoned all his courage and teleported to the sink, snatching Wanda's water bottle before vanishing again.

" _Wait!_ " Kurt appeared in the hallway near the main foyer. It was the most direct route Wanda could take to the girls' dormitories. The redhead skidded to a halt a few yards in front of him. She turned slowly, looking apprehensive.

"You,  _um_ , forgot this?" He held out her water bottle, but she made no move to take it.

"Is that true, what he said?" Wanda's silver eyes were large and her hair was ruffled from her escape. It framed her pale face like a halo of fire. "Do you  _like_  me?"

" _Ja_ , Wanda, I... _like_  you," Kurt stammered, looking at his feet, "but you don't have to like me back; it's Ok if you don't,  _really_..." He could feel the heat rising of his face from the sheer embarrassment of standing in the hallway, admitting his feelings to his crush, but he didn't see the point of lying to her. Now not; not anymore, anyways.

"I like you too Kurt."

"Because if you don't, we can still be just friends, and..." Kurt looked up, cocked his head. " _Was?_  You... _like_  me? Wait,  _like_  me,  _like_  me, or...?

"Do you want to go out sometime? Like, on a  _date_?" Wanda blurted out. Kurt glanced around the hallway before looking back at Wanda and pointing to himself. She arched her eyebrow.  _She's asking you out,_ Dummer Kopf _,_ _say something!_  Kurt's brain buzzed, but he couldn't get his voice to cooperate.

"Look," Wanda bit her lip, "I know it might be  _weird_  for a girl to ask a guy out, but..."

" _Ja,_ yes, _oui, si, sim, ken, da,_ " Kurt responded in every language he conjure. "Wanda I would  _love_ to go out with you."

"Great!" Wanda smiled, looking relieved. "I'm pretty busy until after our chemistry test this week, but after that maybe we can get some coffee, or something?"

" _Ja_ , I would like that very much," Kurt smiled widely, showing all his fangs. He made a mental note to start drinking coffee and loving it  _immediately_.

"Cool," Wanda looked down bashfully, tucking her hair behind her ear. Maybe it was the liquid courage or the sugar rush from the Oreos or the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, but suddenly, something inside Kurt  _snapped_. He took a deep breath and teleported, appearing next to Wanda. He leaned over and kissed her quickly on the cheek before handing her the water bottle.

" _Gute Nacht_ , Wanda," Kurt whispered. She looked up and smiled happily, her silver eyes shining like the dawn.

Kurt walked back to the kitchen, practically floating on air.

"How'd it go?" Scott asked eagerly. Without saying a word, Kurt marched up to Azazel and threw his arms around the man's neck. He felt Azazel stiffen in surprise a second, but he quickly hugged Kurt back hard. When he pulled away, Azazel was smiling widely and eyes seemed to glisten.

"Ok," Kurt clapped his hands together. "Who's going to show me how to work the coffee maker?"

* * *

"What part of the chicken is the  _McNugget_?" Clarice asked as she took one from the container Peter offered.

"All of it, I think?" Peter shrugged as he put down the box and unwrapped his hamburger. "We can always ask the Professor. I bet he'd know. Here, try this: it's called a _Big Mac_."

Clarice and Peter were sitting on an oversized picnic blanket on the school's roof, surrounded by dozens of flickering candles. There was a stereo in one corner playing music from what Peter proudly proclaimed was a ' _mix tape_ ' he made earlier, and next to the stereo was a cooler stocked with cheap beer. An array of containers circled them, and Peter was introducing Clarice the finer points of American fast food. Overall, she thought the food was pretty good, even if it was a bit salty and a lot of it was fried. She really liked the chicken and biscuits from the place in Kentucky, and the French fries from the McDonald's, although she wasn't sure what qualified them as French. She had to admit that trying all the new foods was fun; they didn't have any of these American places back home in the East.

"Next time," Clarice paused to lick her fingers. Of everything Peter had her try, she really liked the Hostess cupcakes the best. "I'll have to make you  _bahn mi_. You haven't really eaten until you've had one of  _my_  sandwiches."

"So," Peter arched his eyebrow, shoving a Twinkie in this mouth. "I'm already hearing there's gonna to be a  _next time_?"

"Don't outrun yourself just yet, speedster" Clarice snickered, playfully throwing her cupcake wrapper at him. He giggled, easily dodging it. "So, how did you and Wanda find out about this place, anyways?"

"Well, it's a long and  _weird_ story," Peter laughed. Clarice listened raptly as Peter told her the circumstances of meeting the Professor and Dr. McCoy and helping free Magneto when he was fifteen. She perked at the mention of Magneto, but Peter didn't elaborate on a connection to the metal bender outside of helping him escape prison.

"I wish there was a place like this when I was a kid," Clarice sighed and finished her beer. Peter had ended his story a while ago and the two were laying side-by-side, looking up at the stars. "I mean, I don't  _regret_  growing up with Azazel, not at all. He was  _great_ , and he did the best he could but still..." She rolled on her side, propping her head up, looking down at Peter. "It just wasn't  _this_ , you know?"

"Oh, I totally get it," Peter nodded, sitting up and reaching in the cooler. He pulled out two beers and cracked one open, handing it to Clarice. "I actually, um... _failed_  out of high school? But it wasn't because I'm  _stupid_  or anything. I actually read a lot and I think science is super cool, but when my powers came, I just couldn't sit  _still_ anymore _._ It took me years to re-learn how to walk and talk at a pace people could handle, and not be bored with things that seemed too  _slow_." Peter opened the second beer and took a long drink before looked directly at Clarice. "Did I tell you that the Professor is helping me get my GED? With that I can go to college.  _College!_  I never thought in a million years that would happen. Maybe I'll get a teaching degree and I can work with the little dudes and dudettes full time."

"I was home-schooled, growing up," Clarice added. "We - Azazel and I - moved around a lot when I was a kid, so what education I got was from what he taught me and from library books. When I got a little older, I kinda when to an  _academy_ , but it wasn't anything like Westchester." Clarice looked down at her beer, swirling the can. What she said wasn't  _exactly_  a lie. She and Azazel  _did_  move around a lot, and he was a good teacher; but instead of learning math and science, he taught her fighting and weaponry. When she turned thirteen, Azazel put her in the same KGB training program he had gone through. That is where she learned more traditional subjects such as languages while she refined her combat and espionage skills. Everything she needed to be the perfect assassin alongside Big Brother.

Growing-up with Azazel certainly wasn't Westchester, but it wasn't terrible by any means. Sure, there were awkward times, like when Clarice got her first period. She remembered being so frightened when she woke up with an aching stomach and bleeding. She ran to Azazel in tears, but all he did was assure he that she wasn't  _dying_  as he paced their safe house's living room, looking as white as a sheet (or pink, in his case). Eventually, he teleported her to a fancy club and told her to wait in the lobby while he visited an old friend. When Azazel returned, he was accompanied by a beautiful woman dressed all in white, who he introduced as Emma. Clarice remembered Emma shaking her head and laughing at Azazel before taking Clarice to her office, where Emma told her in private what was happening to her, gave her a box of tampons and explained how to use them. When they returned home that night, Azazel handed her a book on the human body and told her to read it before reminding her again to disregard  _anything_  Emma had told her about men.

But, there were plenty of good times too, like when her mutation manifested. When she showed Azazel that she could teleport, she remembered the unmasked pride on his face and how he gave Clarice her first shot of vodka. When she graduated the training program, Azazel gave Clarice her beautiful katana before jokingly taking her out for ice cream even though she was nineteen. Throughout the years, Big Brother was there if she needed him, and even if he didn't always talk much, he was always there to listen when she needed an ear. Clarice traced the pale scar on her forearm as she thought about the school's kindergarten students and how they were abandoned by their families. Azazel had the chance to abandon her too, but instead, he kept her. He didn't just keep her alive, either; he gave her a name and a home, and he gave up a lot to keep her safe. Clarice felt a sting of guilt for yelling at him earlier that day. Sometimes it was hard to remember just how much Big Brother had done for their little family over the years.

"But Red Dude's not like your  _dad_ , right?" Peter questioned. "Because I gotta be honest, you two don't look  _anything_  alike."

" _Azazel?_ " Clarice laughed. "No, he's kinda my older brother, like how you are to Wanda."

"Kinda?" Peter cocked his head.

"He adopted me when I was about eight."

"Do you have any blood-family?" Peter unwrapped another Twinkie. He broke it in two and handed half to Clarice. She chewed thoughtfully before answering.

"I did, once. But they're all,  _um_...they're dead."

"Wow, oh I'm  _sorry_ ," Peter frowned. The hurt on his face was genuine.

"It's alright. It happened a really long time ago," Clarice waved her hand to show no harm was done. "I've built a really good life since then."

They stayed up talking for hours. Clarice was surprised how easily words came to her, and how much she  _wanted_  to share. Of course, she didn't reveal much about her childhood, and she avoided talking about her and Azazel's KGB connection or their real relationship to Kurt. What surprised Clarice the most was much she enjoyed listening to Peter talk, and how interesting he was when he let his guard down. He told her all about his own family and mutation, and although he made it clear that his step-father was a total  _asshole_ , she noticed that Peter didn't mention Magneto again.

"So what  _exactly_  is your mutation?" Peter sat facing her, his arms around his knees. "You know, besides being  _super pretty_."

" _Ha ha_ ," Clarice snickered, pulling Peter's jacket tighter around her shoulders. A hour before she had mentioned she it was getting chilly and Peter's response was to grab both her hands, pulling Clarice to her feet for an impromptu rooftop dance party. The two laughed and jumped around to the music, and Clarice didn't even mind Peter holding her hands for a few songs while they danced. Afterwards, the speedster took off his coat and handed it to her. It smelled like old leather and sweat, and she liked it in a way she couldn't quite explain.

"You know, Azazel always said that part of the teleportation mutation was being  _handsome_."

"Funny, because that's  _definitely_  part of the super-speed mutation," Peter readily agreed, making her giggle. "So what can you do?"

"Actually," she beamed, "I'm a  _teleporter._ And, I also have _cool hair._ "

"What?" He made a disbelieving face. "How come I've never seen you vanish like Elf?"

"Mine's a bit different than his mutation. I can't vanish at will, but I can create openings in space, like portals, and move through them."

"Can you show me?" Peter looked at her eagerly.

"Sure," Clarice put down her beer as she stood. She held her hands out, weaving her fingers through the air. She had to feel for where the opening was, but once she found it, all she had to do was twist her hand. A pale crystal appeared in her fingers, seemingly pulled out of thin air. It glowed the same pale violet color as her facial tattoos.

" _Whoa!_  How did you...?" Peter scrambled to his feet to get a better look. Grinning, Clarice motioning for him to watch. She swiftly broke the crystal and tossed half of away. It exploded silently into a bright magenta disc that seemed to float just over the edge of the roof. Clarice took off running and jumped from the roof towards the portal. Just before she vanished, she threw the other half of the crystal behind her.

" _Clarice!_ " Peter zoomed forward, but the magenta light had already swallowed her whole.

"Yes, Peter?" Clarice stood behind him with crossed arms, smiling lightly as he spun around.

" _How_  did you do that?" Clarice explained that the crystals were actually portals that she was able to pull from the air. When she broke a crystal, she could create two portals that she could place anywhere and move through. She even explained how the color of her eyes and her facial tattoos helped her throw the crystals with more accuracy.

"The best part of my mutation is that anyone can use it as long as they have a crystal," Clarice waved her hand and pulled another crystal from the air, offering it to Peter. "Here, you try."

"Really?" Peter turned the crystal over in his hand, looking at it doubtfully.

"It's easy," she smiled reassuringly. "Just snap it in half and throw one half to make your opening portal, and then throw the second half exactly where you want to be."

" _Exactly_  where I want to be?" Peter raised his eyebrow, a mischievous look sparkling in his eyes.

"Yes, although for your first time, I  _don't_  suggest jumping off the roof like I did," Clarice snickered.

"Ok, here goes!" Peter snapped the crystal and threw the first half. It opened a portal halfway across the roof.

"Good! Now remember to throw the other half just before you jump..." Clarice was interrupted by a brilliant flash of magenta light as a portal opened  _directly_  in front of her. _Oh Peter_ , she thought, shaking her head and laughing,  _you didn't throw it far enough..._

Suddenly, Clarice felt something warm and flush against her lips. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt two hands firmly holding her by her shoulders. After a few seconds, Peter pulled back. Clarice felt her own eyes go wide in shock as her hand darted to her mouth.

_He just kissed me._

"You said to throw it  _exactly_  where I wanted to be," Peter stepped out of the portal in full, a lopsided grin on his face. The light winked out behind him.

"I,  _um_ , I..." Clarice stepped back, wrapping her arms tightly around her. Warning bells were ringing in her head and her knees felt weak.

"Sorry, I probably taste like cheap beer," Peter laughed, "not very  _romantic,_ huh?" He moved towards her again but this time she skirted back, accidentally knocking over her beer.

" _Shit!_ " Clarice exclaimed as the foamy liquid spilled, seeping into the blanket.

"Hey," Peter frowned and took another step toward her, holding out his arms. "Are you Ok?"

"No..." Clarice backed away from him. "No...it's just..."

"Oh  _man,_ " Peter stopped, suddenly looking very unsure of himself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"No, Peter. It's ok, it's not you, it's just..." Clarice felt like she was on the very of hyperventilating. She didn't want to talk about  _it_ , not here, not now, not  _ever_. "Look, I just have a hard time with people... _touching_  me. Before Azazel adopted... _rescued_  me...bad stuff happened to me, really bad stuff, when I was just a little kid, and...and it's hard for me to let people get close to me."

Peter's silver eyes grew wide as the implication of her words set in. He nodded and glanced around, raking his fingers nervously through his hair. For once, the speedster was silent. Clarice looked at her feet, feeling her face burn in shame. They were having such a good time, and in her panic at his sudden closeness, she ruined it.

"Ok, I have a solution!" Peter snapped his fingers. "We're gonna play  _Red-Light, Green-Light_."

" _Red_ -Light... _what?_ " Clarice shook her head. She had no idea what he was talking about.

"It's a game I play with the kids. See, I'm the traffic light and I stand on one side of the room and they line-up on the other side. When I say ' _Green Light!_ ' and they run towards me, but when I say " _Red-Light!_ " they have to stop immediately or I send them back to the starting line. The first kid to tag me wins. Get it?"

Clarice nodded, but she still had no idea where he was going with this. Peter didn't move closer to her, but he did reach out slowly and took her hand in his, just like when they were dancing.

"Are you comfortable with this?" Peter asked, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Does it feel Ok if I hold your hand?"

Clarice nodded. She didn't feel panicked holding his hand. It kinda felt nice, actually.

"Ok, so things like holding hands - things that you are  _comfortable_  with - those are your Green-Lights _._ So if you say " _Green Light!_ " and I'll know you're good. But, anything that you don't like or anything that makes you feel weird or uncomfortable - even if it's something you were comfortable with but don't want to do anymore - those are your Red-Lights _._ Just say " _Red-Light!_ " and I'll stop immediately."

"Alright," Clarice agreed.

" _You're_  the traffic light," Peter smiled, releasing her hand. "You're in control."

 _I'm in control_ , Clarice thought. It was a powerful notion, one she hadn't really ever considered. In her whole adult life, she hadn't ever reflected on the idea that maybe - just  _maybe_  - she could have a  _normal_  relationship if she felt like she was in control of her body and how a man interacted with her. Clarice took a deep breath and reached out, grabbing Peter's hand again.

"Green light," she said confidently, squeezing his hand. Peter grinned and squeezed back.  _I'm in control._

"Red light, green light?" Peter asked as he picked up his foot, motioning that he wanted to step closer to her.

"Green light," Clarice nodded and he moved closer.  _I'm in control_.

"Red light?" Peter held up his free hand, holding it just next to her shoulder. "Green light?"

"Green," Clarice took another deep breath, closing her eyes as his hand rested on her shoulder. After a moment, she boldly took his hand she was holding and pressed it against her face.  _I'm in control._  His thumb started caressing her cheek softly and her whole body trembled, but she felt exhilarated at the same time.  _I'm in control._

"Red light, green light?" His voice was barely a whisper. Clarice opened her eyes. Peter's eyes were shining down at her like the stars; rich and deep and full of endless wonder and light. His hands felt warm and reassuring against her skin, and for the first time, she wasn't afraid. Clarice didn't answer; instead, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

He did taste like cheap beer, but she didn't mind.


	23. Confessions

Clarice shut her bedroom door quietly and leaned back against it, closing her eyes and smiling. Peter had just  _walked_  her to her room - she suspected to prolong the last, lingering moments of their date - and she let him kiss her again in front of her door. The instant his lips met hers, her entire body felt like it was humming with electricity. She knew she wouldn't magically get over her intimacy fears any time soon - she even had to say _Red Light_  once on the roof when Peter got a bit too  _enthusiastic_  with his hands - but it was nice that the instant she said it, he stopped immediately and gave her space. They only kissed a few times and held hands; if the speedster really wanted to chase her, Clarice made sure he knew things were going to be  _slow_. She ran her hand along the wall, feeling giddy as she groped for the light switch.

"It's  _late_."

At the sound of the voice, Clarice jumped back and instinctively grabbed for her short sword before remembering she was unarmed. A figure leaned forward from the chair next to her bed, peering out of the darkness.

" _Christ!_ " She swore, flipping on the light. Azazel grimaced and sat back, shielding his eyes from the sudden brightness.

"What the hell is  _wrong_  with you? That is literally the  _creepiest_  thing you've ever done!" Clarice's heart was pounding so hard she felt like it could break her rib cage. "Seriously, what if I brought someone back here with me?"

"Why'd you  _think_  I'm here?" Azazel challenged. Something about his voice sounded  _off_ , even in Russian.

"Oh, for  _fuck's_  sake, you  _know_  that I wasn't going to do that!" She crossed her arms, glaring as she tapped her foot angrily. "Besides, that is none of your business! I am  _twenty-four_ years old, and you're  _not_  my  _dad!_ "

"No, I'm  _not_ , but it's  _my_  responsibility to watch out for you," Azazel stood suddenly, pointing his finger at her just before he stumbled forward. He managed to prevent a complete fall only by clumsily catching the side of the bed. As he pushed himself back up, Clarice heard him mumble ' _fucking tail'_ under his breath.

"Are you  _drunk_?" She quirked her eyebrow.

"I'm not _drunk_ ," he answered indignantly, but she could see that he was swaying slightly and still clutching the side of the bed. Clarice sighed as she bent down, retrieving the bottle he knocked over. She shook it so they both could see the minuet amount of vodka inside.

 _Clearly_ , he was drunk.

" _Sure_ , Big Brother. Just how much of this  _truth-juice_  did you drink tonight?"

"I didn't drink  _all_  of it," Azazel huffed and crossed his arms, but the movement made him lose balance again. This time he sat hard on the bed, crossing his legs immediately as he tried to maintain a sorry charade of sobriety. "Kurt and Scott  _helped_."

"You gave  _alcohol_  to  _minors_  on  _school grounds_?" Clarice demanded, her eyes going wide. Azazel made a noncommittal noise and looked at his feet. She put both of her hands over her face.

" _Jesus,_  Azazel! Do you know how  _stupid_  that was? Did anyone  _see_  you?" Azazel continued to look at his feet but shook his head.  _Thank God for small miracles_ , Clarice thought, pulling her hands from her face to her hips as she mulled over the situation. She knew the boys well enough that she could trust they'd keep mouths shut about their new  _drinking buddy_.

"Did you remember to  _eat_  anything today?" She helped Azazel as he attempted to swing his legs up onto the bed despite a very uncooperative tail. The only times she'd ever seen him this inebriated were the rare times he drank on an empty stomach.

"I think an apple? And, Oreos? Kurt gave me Oreos. He  _hugged_  me today, Clarice." The red mutant paused, staring at Clarice as she struggled to pull off his shoes. If he was going to lay down on  _her_  bed, she sure as  _hell_  didn't want him to track dirt all over the sheets. "I hugged  _my_   _son_."

"Well, fucking  _sunshine_  and  _unicorns_ ," Clarice snorted, walking into the attached bathroom. She returned momentarily with a large glass of water. Azazel was now laying down on her bed.

"Don't get  _too_  comfortable," she warned, handed him the glass. She made sure he drank the entire thing.

"I cannot stay in my room," Azazel shook his head, handing back the empty glass. "It's not  _safe_. That CIA woman, she'll  _kill_  me."

"Big Brother, the only thing she's  _killing_  tonight is my chance at getting decent sleep," Clarice lamented. Azazel looked at her thoughtfully for a few seconds.

"You look very pretty. How was it?" He eyed her cautiously. "How was your... _evening_?"

"It was  _nice_ , actually," Clarice soothed her braid over her shoulder, avoiding his gaze.

"Will you see  _him_  again?"

"Maybe," she shrugged, "I haven't decided." Clarice knew she was going to see Peter again - heck, he had already asked for a second date when he said goodnight - but she didn't want to admit this to Azazel just yet.

"If he hurts you..." Azazel pointed at her, struggling to sit up.

" _Azazel_..."

"...I can make it look like an  _accident_."

"With all the training you've given me over the years, you really think I  _couldn't_?" Clarice rolled her eyes. Still, she had to smile at his misplaced concern. She sat next to Azazel before leaning over and hugging him.

"What's this for?" He questioned as he hugged her back tightly.

"For everything," Clarice rested her chin on his shoulder. "For not abandoning me and for keeping me safe and for teaching me. For being my _Big Brother_ , even if you're and still an  _idiot_."

"And you're still a pain in my  _ass_ ," he retorted, making Clarice giggle.

"We're Ok, right, Big Brother?"

"Never better, Little Sister."

"How about this," Clarice sat back, squeezing his hand affectionately. "I'm going to the kitchen to make you a sandwich. Let's see if we can soak up some of that alcohol in your system. Sound good?" Azazel yawned and nodded before settling comfortably on the bed.

Clarice doubted at this point a sandwich would prevent the raging hangover she was sure Azazel would be battling come morning, but at least it might make it less severe.  _If_   _he's even still awake by the time I return,_ Clarice thought, shaking her head and smiling as she left made her way downstairs.  _  
_

* * *

"... _Hello?_ "

Raven startled, inhaling sharply as her eyes darted to kitchen door. Her swift movements rattled the mug near her elbow, almost emptying the now cold coffee on her map of  _The Polish People's Republic_. A few hours earlier, Charles used Cerebro to identify an area where Erik and his family might be. As Raven feared, the narrowest coordinates he could conjure still encompassed about  _twenty-five_  squares kilometers; presently, Raven was studying maps, looking for possible hideouts for her journey East. She certainly didn't expect to be interrupted at this hour.

"I'm  _sorry_ ," the Asian girl smiled apologetically, holding up one hand in a peace gesture. "I didn't mean to  _surprise_  you. I really thought everyone would be asleep by now." Raven smiled back, waving for her to enter as she silently chastised herself. She didn't even  _hear_  the girl approach, which meant the last few months living at the  _Xavier School_  had dulled her reflexes. That didn't exactly bode well for her upcoming  _solo_  mission. Raven was glad at least that she was still wearing her blonde disguise; judging from the polite expression on Clarice's face, the girl had no idea who she truly was.

"You're Azazel's friend, right?" Raven feigned ignorance as the girl approached.

"Yes, but I also respond to ' _Clarice'_ ," she laughed, extending her hand. "And you are...?"

" _Clarice?_  Oh, so  _you're_  the young lady Peter went on a  _date_  with tonight!" Raven winked and forced a mischievous smile, redirecting Clarice's question. She didn't want to lie anymore than necessary, but she wasn't ready to deal with the complications of revealing herself to the girl who's life she helped save sixteen years ago. Not to mention that Raven had no idea how the girl would react; in all the passing years, she had no idea of what Azazel may or may not have said about Raven's role in his life.

"God, does  _everyone_  know?" Clarice rolled her eyes but Raven caught her shy smile as she moved into the main kitchen. "I guess I should have expected as much, since Peter's kind of a  _motormouth_. Big Brother think it's part of his mutation."

" _Big Brother?_ " Raven cocked her head, watching Clarice pull food out from the fridge.

"Oh sorry; I meant  _Azazel_ ," Clarice shrugged, turning her back to Raven as she started to assemble a sandwich. "Big Brother is just a  _nickname_  I call him."

"The students really like his class," Raven ventured. "He seems... _nice_." Part of her was now extremely curious to hear what Clarice had to say about  _Big Brother_. It certainly wasn't the type of nickname she ever expected Azazel to acquire.

"Who, Azazel?" Clarice grinned, glancing over her shoulder at Raven. "Oh, he's  _great_ , once he let you past the the whole  _satanic bravado_  shit. He loves the kids here. Heck, I'd be  _dead_  if it wasn't for him."

" _Dead?_ How do you mean?"

"He rescued me, when I was a little kid. He and his...well, his  _friend_ , I guess," Clarice shrugged again, keeping her back to Raven while she worked. "She split soon after I came on the scene but he decided to keep me around, put a roof over my head, make sure I ate my vegetables, you know, that kinda stuff. He still looks out for me, just like any good older brother would. Hence, the nickname."

"Do you have any real family?"

"...Azazel is my  _real_  family," Clarice said after a slight pause. She looked back at Raven and frowned. There was a slight bristle in her voice, as if daring Raven to say otherwise. "If you mean  _blood-related_ , then no, I don't anymore, but that doesn't matter. Family is  _family_ , once you're part of one."

"Yes, of course," Raven nodded. "I didn't mean for that to come out how it sounded."

"It's alright," Clarice turned her attention back to the food. "What about you? You have any family?"

"... _No,_ " Raven managed to choke out.  _Yes_ , is what she desperately wanted to admit.  _I have a brother who loves me more than I deserve. I have a son who's all the good, wonderful parts of me that have been ripped away over the years. I have a husband too; we're estranged, but today I realized I'd still take a bullet for him. Actually, they're your family._

The thoughts made an all-to-familiar ache begin to swell in Raven's chest. The blue woman watched Clarice work, blinking back tears.  _Technically_ _, you're part of my family too; you have more family than you know, you just can't see it.  
_

When Raven found Clarice cowering in that  _shithole_  bar in Kyzyl, she didn't know she was pregnant with Kurt. All Raven knew was the moment she looked into the abused mutant child's eyes - the moment the child took hold of Raven's hand and stood up - she desperately wanted to keep Clarice as her own. She wanted to love and protect the little girl just as Charles had once done for her, as Azazel's mother had once desperately tried to do for him. Before the raid tore everything apart, she planned to ask Azazel if they could adopt the little girl who was now the fully grown woman standing just feet away, blissfully ignorant of the history that wove their all lives together like a tapestry.

"Well, it's getting late," Raven stood and quickly gathered her things. She needed something for her hands to do to combat the pain throbbing inside her. Snatching the map and her notes, she walked briskly to the door. "It was nice talking to you."

"I'm sorry," she heard Clarice call out. "I didn't catch your name...?"

But Raven was already gone. For the second time, she walked out of Clarice's life, and it hurt just much as the first.


	24. Monsters

Kurt stole another sideways glance at Wanda as they walked down the basement corridor. It had been three days since they admitted they liked each other, and now that Wanda's dreaded chemistry test was over, he was  _really_ looking forward to their double date with Jean and Scott that afternoon. Midterms kept everyone so busy that Kurt hadn't even  _seen_  Wanda since the night he kissed her on the cheek. Earlier that day, the indigo boy had waited just outside the science wing for her to finish her test. When Wanda finally appeared, Kurt smiled shyly and waved, but she didn't hesitate to run over and  _hug_ him so hard she almost knocked him off his feet. Kurt was so surprised that he accidentally teleported them both to the roof. Luckily, Wanda wasn't afraid of heights (although the unexpected trip did make her feel lightheaded for a bit).

But now - here he was! - walking and _holding hands_  with the most beautiful girl in the entire  _Xavier School._  He almost wanted to pinch himself to make sure Wanda wasn't going to vanish like some desert mirage (although, honestly? Kurt would have still been happy with even just a mirage). As he marveled at his unbelievable luck, Kurt felt a playful tug on his tail, making him look over his shoulder. Behind him, Jean smiled warmly while Scott gave Kurt an encouraging thumb's up as he let go of Kurt's tail. Azazel sauntered behind the entire group, smirking and shaking his head at their teenage antics. When Kurt caught his eye, however, the red man gave him a knowing wink. Kurt grinned happily at all of his friends.

Today was shaping-up to be an  _especially_  excellent day.

The small group was on their way to see The Danger Room, the new holographic simulation arena that Dr. McCoy built. Although still in preliminary stages, the scientist expressed that he hoped to have it fully functional by the start of the next school year. He invited a few students to check it out and give him feedback on it. After hearing Dr. McCoy describe it in great detail in biology last week, Kurt was beyond  _thrilled_  to be invited to experience it. Jean suggested that Kurt invite Wanda to join them before their double date, and since The Danger Room was a tool for fight training, Kurt also asked Dr. McCoy if it would be alright for him to invite Azazel on the tour. Kurt wasn't sure why Dr. McCoy hadn't invited Azazel himself (or why the man's eyes seem to go wide at the mention of Azazel's name), but Kurt really wanted to show off what promised to be a cool experience to his friend and mentor. Kurt was still super grateful to Azazel for his help in getting him and Wanda together. He wanted to do something really nice for the man.

"So, Doc?" Scott asked as they stepped inside a large, circular room. "How exactly does this work?" Dr. McCoy stood behind a large control panel on an elevated platform on one side of the room. The entire space was made of a dark silver metal, and once the door was closed behind them, the room's edges disappeared into shadows. Faint blue light pulsed from the floor and ceiling in a grid-like pattern. The room wasn't even  _on_  yet and already Kurt thought it looked super cool, like something straight out of  _Star Wars_.

"The Danger Room contains four high-capacity  _Shi'ar_  computers that generate room-filling, 32-bit color images at 300 gigabytes per second, creating hard-light laser constructs of anything imaginable that are virtually indistinguishable from reality, and..."

"Hey  _Beastman!_  Wanna try that again, but in  _English_?" A soft light erupted in the darkness along the wall, and a laughing Alex Summers entered followed by Raven. "Not everyone in here is a straight-A student like Jeannie!"

Alex walked over and gave his little brother a high-five before pulling Jean into an affectionate, one-armed hug. Raven claimed a spot a few feet away from the main group, crossing her arms and waiting for the demonstration to start. She was wearing her pretty blonde face, but for some odd reason, Kurt noticed she had a large black bag slung over her shoulder. The blue woman nodded politely at Azazel, and he returned the gesture.  _At least they're being civil today_ , Kurt mused. He waved to Raven, and he saw her eyes widen slightly as she took-in Wanda and Kurt's joined hands. A lopsided grin broke out on her face as she waved back. Kurt beamed; it always made him  _extra_ happy when Raven was in a good mood.

"Yes, of course," Dr. McCoy chuckled at Alex's jest. "To put it simply: I've programmed the room with holographic technology to create a battle simulation arena. The room's computers will run programs at varying degrees of difficulty, from simple to potentially lethal, and..."

" _Lethal?_ " Jean interrupted. She and Scott exchanged worried looks.

"Don't worry Jean," the scientist smiled reassuringly, pushing up his glasses up as he peered down at them. "I've installed advanced safety protocols separate from the room's internal systems that will shut the room down in the event of any serious injury. And, to put you even more at ease: neither the room nor its programming are fully online yet. Today you'll only see a  _simulation_  of what the room will eventually do. Nothing you will see today has the ability to harm, interact, or even touch you in any way. Everything will be purely images."

"Where did you get all the images?" Wanda asked.

"Excellent question Wanda!" Dr. McCoy complimented. Kurt smiled and squeezed Wanda's hand. She is so  _smart._  "To make the training scenarios as realistic as possible, I had to use real-life situations. That's where Raven and Alex helped out  _tremendously_." He paused, nodding to credit his volunteers. "Since Raven has been active in the field for last twenty years, she was generous enough to lend some of her memories to create a series of backgrounds and fighting situations. Alex's time in the army and in Vietnam were especially useful in constructing military scenarios."

Suddenly, the main lights dimmed and the blue grid lights began to pulse increasingly faster. Kurt was practically hopping from one foot to the other with excitement. Wanda caught his eye and mouthed ' _so_   _cool_ ,' making Kurt's smile even wider.

"Alright," Dr. McCoy's voice echoed in the dark. "Is everyone..."

* * *

...ready?"

Azazel wasn't exactly  _thrilled_  when Kurt suggested hanging out with  _Dr. McCoy_  earlier that afternoon, but the red mutant was interested in getting a look at this Danger Room the kids were raving about. Now, as he stood in the cavernous space, he wondered again  _why_  everyone seemed so keen on replacing good old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat with all these fancy computer simulations. As far as Azazel was concerned, a fist and a knife could out-teach a computer any day of the week. That's how he was trained, that's how he trained Clarice, and that's how he was training his students; they were all progressing marvelously, too. This room seemed a bit over the top.  _At least the kids are excited about it_ , Azazel thought, amused by the teens' jocular chatter as they waited for the demonstration to start.

Azazel smiled softly as he watched Kurt talk quietly and hold hands with Wanda. He wasn't sure when that started, but he was pleased to see his son making headway with the girl of his dreams. Earlier, Kurt credited Azazel with helping him out in this regard a few nights ago. The red mutant wasn't exactly sure what he did or said to help Kurt - honestly, the entire night in question was a bit  _foggy_ (and he still wasn't sure how he ended-up in Clarice's room without his shoes) - but if Kurt was happy, then he was happy. Kurt's happiness was all that really mattered.

Azazel was surprised when Raven joined them just before the simulation started. Judging by the duffel bag she carried, she was on her way out the door shortly.  _At least she found me first,_ he thought as Raven greeted him with a civil nod. Azazel had crafted a pretty good argument to convince her to abandon her foolish cause. After the demonstration, he'd pull her aside and hopefully, talk some sense into her. When he saw Raven staring at their son's hand entwined with Wanda's, Azazel caught her eye. He secretly pointed at the couple with his tail before giving Raven a sly thumb's up. She rolled her eyes, but smiled back anyway.

 _She's still wearing that pretty false face of hers,_  he thought, pursing his lips as he looked away _._  It seemed like Raven was always in disguise at the school, save for the very rare times they had been alone. He knew why she did it -  _Mystique the Hero_  was a household name in the West, and Raven was never one for fame or attention - but he suspected Raven's real motivation for hiding was that she didn't want anyone to notice the physical similarities between her and Kurt. It was really shame; her sapphire skin was far superior to her fake flesh, and so much more lovely. At least, that had always been Azazel's opinion.

"Here we go!" Azazel heard Dr. McCoy throw a switch. Suddenly, the entire room dissolved in a brilliant flash of light, and...

* * *

...in a heartbeat, Raven was standing on a tropical beach, her feet sinking into the wet, charcoal-colored sand. The sudden change of scenery made her jump, almost dropping her weapons bag. She could hear ocean waves crashing loudly, smell the sting of salt in the air, and feel the heat of the sun on her face. Raven blinked hard against the unexpected brightness. This simulation was  _incredible_ , and already so much more advanced than the one Hank showed her a week ago.

"Welcome to Punaluu Beach, Hawai'i!" Hank's voiced echoed cheerfully. Raven looked up; she could just barely make out where Hank stood at the control panel, now camouflaged as sky. The teens were absolutely mesmerized, shrieking in delight as they tried to scoop up the holographic sand and throw it at each other. Scott grabbed Kurt and pretended to dunk him in the water, making Wanda and Jean peel into laughter. Even Azazel was studying his surroundings closely, trying to touch everything as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the black sand beach faded away and was replaced by a small clearing surrounded on all sides by lush jungle. Raven could hear the faint cries of tropical birds singing from the treetops.

"Where are we now?" Jean asked, glancing around.

"Near the Mekong Delta; I was stationed here during the war," Alex answered, looking rather impressed. "This is one of my memories. Hank, this is  _awesome_!" Just as the blonde mutant finished speaking, a group of soldiers broke the treeline, running across the clearing with guns drawn. Azazel teleported in front of the teens, pulling one of his short swords as the now alarmed youngsters yelled and scrambled behind him. Even Raven had to fight the urge to pull a firearm from her bag.

"Don't panic!" Hank called down. "I haven't programmed the combat opponents to be physical manifestations yet. I'm still configuring their..."

" _English_  Hank!" Raven yelled the reminder, shaking her head while Alex laughed nearby. The others continued to look nervous as the soldiers drew closer.

"The figures can't touch you; they won't even see you," Hank reassured. "Remember, nothing you see can interact or hurt you." True to his word, the military men turned into ghosts the second they converged upon the group, passing through their bodies as if the mutants weren't there at all. It didn't stop a few of the kids from putting up their hands or closing their eyes.

A few moments later, the jungle dissolved and was replaced by a quaint Bavarian street. Raven looked around and smiled. This was one of  _her_  memories, and...

* * *

...Azazel was loathe to admit it, but Dr. McCoy's room was  _impressive_.

As the various scenes appeared before his eyes like magic tricks, Azazel was in awe of the room's power. Once the images were fully interactive, it was going to be a fantastic resource for training the students. Not only did the room craft hyper-realistic images, but somehow, it created sounds and temperature and smells too. Azazel had no idea how the scientist had accomplished those feats, but it was utterly incredible.

The group moved from jungles to mountains to military compounds without even lifting their feet. The latest scene to materialize looked like one of the latter; it was an austere lounge with large square windows overlooking an enclosed courtyard. The room was very official looking, very government-style architecture, save for the retro couches and random pinball machine in the corner. Somehow the room looked vaguely  _familiar_ , although Azazel couldn't quite place how or why. Grinning widely, the red mutant turned to Raven to comment on how neat this whole experience was, but he froze when he saw a  _second_  Raven standing just behind her. The holographic Raven was wearing the same blonde face, but she looked a bit younger and the figure was wearing outdated clothing. The second Raven also appeared terribly  _frightened;_  her hands were pressed against her mouth as she trembled at something just beyond where Azazel stood. The smile vanished from his face and he looked behind him, but saw nothing save for an empty courtyard.

When Azazel turned back, the real Raven caught his eye and tilted her head as if asking what was wrong. Azazel motioned with his chin to look behind her. It was only then that Azazel saw next to the holographic Raven was... _Angel?_  Azazel shook his head.  _This couldn't be right_. Angel was  _dead_ ; he knew for a fact she had died alongside Janos in '65. But now the winged girl stood just a few feet in front of him, looking just as terrified as the fake Raven at her side. As he watched, other young people began to materialize.

" _Hank, turn it off!_ " Azazel looked back at the real Raven. Her hand trembled as it covered her mouth, her eyes now golden and very wide as she watched the figures loom out of the shadows like ghosts.

"Raven, what's...?" The scientist's voice rattled with confusion.

"Oh  _man!_ " Alex's face grew pale as he took in the same scene. "Hank, you  _gotta_  turn this  _off!_ "

"I'm  _trying!_ " Azazel could hear the man desperately punching the control panel. "I can't override the..."

" _Turn it off now_!" Raven's shrieked. She was deeply frightened, and of what, Azazel didn't know, but it was unsettling. He teleported next to her, gently laying his hand on Raven's arm. At his touch she spun around, looking at him with the same wild fear as on the faces of the holograms.

" _Don't_ ," Azazel saw tears building in Raven's eyes as she whispered, almost begging him. "Don't let  _Kurt_  see."

 _Thud_.

It was then that Wanda started screaming.

Lying at her feet was a body of a man in a black suit, slick blood bubbling from his mouth as he opened and closed it like fish gasping for air. Azazel staggered back, his own hand covering his mouth as his memories came rushing back at the same speed as the men falling to their deaths.

 _Kurt,_ Azazel thought desperately, _I have to find_...

* * *

...Kurt pressed himself against the wall, watching the nightmare unfold in front of him, his breath coming hard and fast. With each  _thud_ , the knife-sharp sting of tears behind his eyes grew stronger.

The indigo boy didn't recognize the holograms of the ginger-haired young man or the black man or the Latina girl standing behind Raven, but he easily recognized the holograms of the younger Raven, Alex, and Dr. McCoy. He also recognized the look of fear on their faces as the figures cried and pointed out the the lounge window, up into the night sky.

And of course, Kurt  _immediately_  recognized the red man appearing far above, silhouetted in the moonlight as he dropped the men in black suits to their  _deaths_.

_Thud._

_Dr. McCoy said he made these images from memories._  Kurt closed his eyes.

_Thud._

_And if they were made from memories,_  Kurt struggled with the thought,  _then this really happened_.

Thud.

 _This_ really _happened._

_Thud._

Kurt couldn't breath.

 _Why doesn't Dr. McCoy_...?

* * *

"... _TURN IT OFF!_ " Raven cried out. Whether this was her memory or Alex's, it didn't matter; the ending was still the same. The only thing that matter was that it stopped before it was too late. Raven watched Hank desperately punch buttons on the control panel.

 _Thud_.

But it wasn't fast enough.

_Thud._

_Kurt,_ Raven's inner voice screamed as she looked for her son.  _I have to get to Kurt._ If she could just block him from seeing what was happening, then maybe this...

* * *

 _...is really bad_ , panic ballooned inside Azazel's chest;  _this is really, really bad._  He teleported over to Kurt. The boy had his back pressed against the wall, his entire body shaking violently as he watched the holographic nightmare in front of him. Wanda stood a few feet away, her face covered by her hands to stifle her screaming. Red sparks sizzled around her entire body like fireworks. The room was vibrating and Azazel could see Jean squeezing her eyes closed, silent tears running down her cheeks while Scott held her, speaking softly in an attempt to calm the girl. Alex and Raven yelled up to Hank, who was trying hard to stop the scene from completing.

But none of them mattered to Azazel; no one mattered except his son.

He needed to do damage control immediately, but he had no idea how to possibly explain to Kurt - his sweet,  _innocent_  Kurt - what he saw in a way that could remotely justify the horror of it. Kurt wasn't ready to know about that part of Azazel's life; after the last two months at the school, Azazel had begun to wonder if Kurt ever needed to know. Azazel had even started to consider that when Raven finally agreed to tell Kurt who they really were, maybe she was right; maybe it was for the best if they never told Kurt the entire truth about their pasts. There was a goodness in him, an innocence that Azazel wanted to protect. He gently laid his hand on Kurt's arm, but the indigo boy looked at him and jerked away violently, as if Azazel's touch had scalded him.  _  
_

" _How_...?" Kurt voice was raw and wounded, just barely above a whisper. His golden eyes shimmered with unshed tears. " _How could you?_ "

"Kurt," Azazel kept his voice soft and reassuring. "That was...it happened very long ago. Before you were born, even. I was different person then. It was  _nyet_  something you should have seen."

"All those  _people_..." Kurt backed away slowly, shaking his head as if to try and banish the images from his mind. "Those poor  _people_..." When Kurt faced him again, fear and anger had hardened his eyes.

" _Mal'chik_..." Azazel was reeling, "I can explain...is  _nyet_  what it seems!"

" _Not_  what it  _seems_?" Kurt's voice started to rise, spiked with anger and outrage. " _Not_  what it  _seems_?! Because it sure as  _fuck_  seems like you were using teleporting to _murder people!_ "

The red mutant took a step back, blinking hard. He had never seen this anger in Kurt. He didn't even know the boy was capable of it.

" _How could you?_ " Kurt demanded, now baring his fangs like an animal. The pain and accusation on his son's face was too much to bare; Azazel could almost feel his heart breaking. He reached out again, but Kurt slapped his hand away.

" _Don't touch me_!" Kurt snarled, and...

* * *

...the venom in Kurt's voice pierced Raven like a poison arrow to her heart. She had never even heard Kurt raise his voice, let alone lash out like he did at Azazel. The red mutant stood frozen, his hand extended towards their son, but the expression on his face was of anguish.

" _Don't touch me!"_ Kurt repeated, tears now streaming down his face.

Raven watched Azazel slowly retract his hand. He then looked around the room, unsure of where to be and what to do. All the teens had moved away from him at this point, looking at him in fear. Suddenly, Raven saw him take a decisive step away from the group as his tail curled around his left leg. She knew instantly knew that Azazel was going to teleport. She grabbed her bag and dove forward, reaching for any part of him she could touch.

" _You're not a hero_!" Kurt screamed as Azazel vanished into smoke and fire.

" _You're...you're a_  monster!"


	25. Red Light

_Clarice?_

Clarice gasped and bolted upright, dropping her book. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for the voice's owner, but she was alone. She furrowed her brow; she could have  _sworn_  someone just said her...

 _Clarice?_ The voice repeated. This time she jumped off the bed, snatching her katana from where it rested. She unsheathed the blade and instinctively tensed for whatever was to come.

 _Pardon me for the intrusion,_  the voice begged, _but I really must speak with you, and this is the fastest way._

It took a few seconds for her to realize it was the  _Professor's_  voice echoing in her head. She sighed in relief, lowering her weapon.

 _I assure you,_ the Professor continued, _I will not access any private memories or thoughts while we talk._ _I,_   _ah...I need your help with something rather_ urgent _. I've contacted Peter, and he'll be retrieving you shortly._

Clarice pursed her lips at the word  _urgent_. His stress on it didn't bode well, and neither did the idea she'd need Peter's speed to take her somewhere. She grabbed her trainers and began to lace them.

"Hey, Professor?" Clarice asked. "Are we meeting in your office or...?"

 _There's no need to respond out loud, dear._ Clarice thought she heard a light chuckle in her mind, making her cheeks flush.

 _Yes, of course_ , she concentrated. She had limited experience with telepaths; speaking without making a sound was harder than she anticipated.

 _I'm on my way to Cerebro, anyways,_ the Professor added. _I'll be occupied there for quite some time._

 _What's a 'Cerebro'?_  Clarice puzzled. She didn't know that word in English.

 _It's complicated._ This time she did hear a light laugh _. Peter should arrive in just a few seconds. I haven't told him what I'm about to tell you for privacy reasons that I'm sure you'll understand. He just knows where he needs to take you._

 _What's going on?_ Clarice raised an eyebrow.

_It's Kurt, he's..._

"Kurt?" Clarice said in alarm, pausing in mid-knot. "What's..."  _What's wrong? Is he Ok? Have you contacted Azazel, or...or Kurt's mother?_

_I'm going to Cerebro right now to find Azazel and Raven.  
_

_What do you mean 'find'?_ She bit her lip. _Azazel said he was going to see Dr. McCoy's Danger..._

 _Azazel and Raven are no longer on school grounds,_ the Professor interrupted. _They disappeared a short while ago, and Raven is now out of my telepathic reach. I'll need to amplify it with Cerebro to find her._

 _What the hell is going on...?_  A loud knocking broke her thought. She finished pulling her laces and ran to the door. Peter stood outside, grinning as he leaned casually against the door's frame. In his free hand, he held out a pair of goggles.

" _Quicksilver Express_ , at your...!"

"He's here, Professor!" Clarice snatched the goggles and slipped them on, speaking out loud for Peter's benefit. "We're ready!"

_Alright. I've shown Peter where to find Kurt, and I'm...well, I'm going to share with you a few of Jean's memories that will explain everything. It will just take a moment._ _  
_

Clarice's eyes went wide as images from The Danger Room began to appear in her mind. She saw everything through Jean's eyes as if she had been standing in the room herself. Of course, seeing Azazel in action was not shocking, given their line of work; it was Kurt's reaction that was utterly heartbreaking. She couldn't begin to imagine the pain Kurt was in right now, not after seeing his friend and mentor in such a terrible circumstances. Without hesitating, Clarice seized Peter's hands and thrust them on her shoulders, making the speedster raise an eyebrow in surprise.

" _Green-Light_ , Peter. Let's _go!_ "

* * *

"Kurt?" Clarice called out tentatively. She still felt dizzy from her trip, courtesy of Peter's speed. The Professor had located Kurt somewhere on the roof, but he was unable to communicate with him due to Kurt's mutation and emotional state. Apparently, he been up there -  _alone_  - for the better half of an hour already; he had disappeared shortly the events in The Danger Room and the Professor was only recently able to get a lock on him. Clarice still wasn't sure why the Professor deemed her the  _best_  choice to speak with the indigo boy, seeing how closely tied to Azazel she was, and Azazel was the reason for Kurt's current strife. _The Professor seems like a smart guy,_ Clarice reasoned; _I just have to trust that he knows what he's doing asking me to go in his place._

Clarice asked Peter to hang back and give her privacy while she looked for Kurt. The speedster gave her a thumb's up and popped on his headphones, taking a seat on the roof with this back to her. She could hear his off-key singing to some band -  _Pink Something? Pink Fred?_ She couldn't keep those band names straight - fading away as she turned the corner, walking carefully along the parapet. It was late afternoon and shadows were starting to grow along the edges; the last thing she wanted to do was tumble off the roof in front of Kurt, just like the CIA agents he saw in The Danger Room.  _God, wouldn't that be ironic?_  Her dark humor flared up, and making her roll her eyes at herself. She pulled a crystal out of the air just in case, twisting it in her fingers like a worry stone as she searched.

"Kurt?" She repeated, narrowing her eyes as she peered into particularly dark shadows near a belfry. She thought she saw movement, but...

" _Leave me alone_."

She found him sitting with his back against the belfry wall, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms and tail wrapped tightly around them. Clarice would have walked right past Kurt had he not looked up; his golden eyes seemed to glow against the surrounding dark.  _How extraordinary_ , Clarice marveled. She knew Kurt's unique appendages gave him excellent climbing skills, but she didn't realize until just now how his dark skin camouflaged him in shadows, save for his eyes. She supposed Kurt must have inherited that subtle talent from his mother; she was a  _shape-shifter_ , after all.

"Hey buddy," Clarice said softly, unsure how to proceed. She was unschooled in art of comforting people. "So,  _um_ , the Professor told me..."

" _Leave me alone,_ " Kurt reiterated, casting his eyes to the ground. He sounded wounded, and she could tell that he had been crying. Clarice sat near him, being very careful not to touch him, less she provoke him into vanishing. Part of her reasoned that despite his request, Kurt actually  _wanted_  to talk. After all, he could have simply disappeared the moment he saw her, which is what Azazel did when he wanted to avoid a discussion.  _Or when he did something stupid, like yesterday when he used the last of_ my _toothpaste and didn't bother to tell me._  She sighed closing her eyes.  _Focus on Kurt, Clarice._

"Look, I know this whole situation...well, it  _sucks_ , Ok? You really look up to Azazel, and to see that...," Clarice frowned as she twisted her braid out of nervous habit. "Yeah, it  _sucks_. It really does, and I'm  _so sorry_. What happened wasn't fair to you, or your friends, or Azazel."

"Fair to  _Azazel_?" Kurt's bright eyes locked onto her, the expression on his face incredulous. "He  _killed_  people, Clarice. He  _killed_  people and he was  _smiling_  as he did." Kurt shuddered, turning away.

"That happened a really long time ago," Clarice reasoned quietly. "What you saw happened before you were born, and even before I knew him. The Azazel I know isn't that  _reckless,_ or that  _cruel_." Clarice bit her lip, trying to figure out how to continue without lying. Azazel was technically  _still_  a killer - not that she was inclined to mention this - but the man had v _ery strict_  ethics regarding their work. He refused to kill for sport or harm anyone who was innocent, no matter what the price. What Kurt saw today really wasn't who Azazel was anymore.

"What do  _you_  know?" Kurt sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Of course you'd  _defend_  him. You're  _family_." She could tell he was trying to be spiteful, but there was no real edge to his voice; there was just pain.

"Look, I'm going to tell you something that I've  _never_  told anyone, Ok?" Kurt shrugged, continuing to stare at his feet, but his tail twitched. Clarice took it as a good sign; Azazel did the same thing when he was listening, even if he was pretending not to.

"I had a brother once. A  _real_  brother. His name was Tuan, and I was crazy about him. He might as well have hung all the stars in the sky," Clarice paused, smiling at her memories. "My parents died when I was very young, and Tuan raised me. He was my world, my last living family member, and I loved him so much, Kurt. He even told me once that he gave me my birth name: Tien. I've never told anyone about Tuan, or that my real name is Tien. Heck, I've never even told Azazel. But, I'm telling you," Clarice took a deep breath. It was painful to talk about this, but it was the only way she could think to make Kurt understand.

"When I was a little kid, soldiers burned my village, and killed Tuan in front of me. They took me... _hostage_ ," Clarice glanced at her hands, balling them into fists. "For a few years I was a  _prisoner._ I was hurt, abused, and for a long time, I  _wanted_  to die. But just when things were the darkest, a miracle happened: Azazel and Raven rescued me. Even better? Azazel kept me, and he gave me a home and a family to replace the ones I lost."

Kurt looked at her, blinking rapidly at the mention of the rescue.  _Good_ , Clarice thought. She had a chance to turn this around.

"Once, I think I was about nine or ten?" She continued. "I had only been with Azazel for about a year, and he took me to this giant park in Leningrad. There had been a heavy snow the night before. I had never seen snow. I was so excited, and because it was so cold, we could cover ourselves and hide that we were mutants, as long as we kept distance from the humans. He hung back and let me play in the snow. After a while, these street kids showed-up. I tried to play with them, but they just made fun of me, and called me names for being a mutant. I was still so embarrassed to be different, to have these markings on my face and not look like the other kids. I ran back to Azazel in tears, and do you know what he did?" Kurt shook his head; she had his full interest now.

"Well, he showed his face and tail to those kids - you know, spooked them enough to get them to leave - and then he got down on his knees in the snow, and wiped my tears off with a handkerchief. He held my face and he asked me, 'when are you going to start loving you as much as I do?'" Clarice smiled, wiping her eye at the memory. "I know he didn't think I could understand him. He was  _always_  doing that, when I was little and just learning Russian; always saying things out loud that he thought I couldn't understand. It's probably why I can  _swear_  so well so many languages," she laughed, and was pleased to see a small smile appear on Kurt's face. She reached out, placing her hand over his.

"That day was the first time since I had lost Tuan that I felt  _loved_ again _._ What you saw today...well, that's  _not_  Azazel, not anymore. People can  _change_ , Kurt. I know you care about Azazel, and he really cares about you, too. That's why this all  _hurts_  so much."

"I know he cares about me," Kurt admitted, squeezing Clarice's hand gently. "And I've never known Azazel be anything but kind since I met him. But Clarice, I...I can't just  _forget_  what I saw. Even if it happened long ago, it  _still_  happened."

"I know, buddy. Believe me, I know," Clarice patted his hand reassuringly. "I know that bad things we see and experience don't go away overnight. But you're the one in control, and it's up to you to decide when you're ready to make peace with it, forgive it, and move on."

"I want to believe this is true," Kurt swallowed hard, wiping his eyes. "That what I saw is not how Azazel is like anymore. And, I want to forgive him, but I need time. I just...I feel like he was  _hiding_  something from me."

"Of course," Clarice sighed in relief. Kurt had said the magic word -  _forgive_  - and she knew it was a matter of time before this was all behind them. "I get it, and Azazel will get it too, and he'll give you all the time you need. Trust me, I know your dad better than anyone else, and if he were here, he'd..."

" _What_  did you say?" Kurt interrupted, his bright eyes locking onto her emerald ones as he cocked his head.

"What?" Clarice raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You said..." Kurt suddenly seized her hand in both of his. His golden eyes were wide, searching her face. "You said... _'dad.'_ I know you did!"

" _No_ , Kurt, _no no!_ " Clarice waved her free hand. "I did not. Listen: I said  _'I know your_..." Clarice gasped, feeling the cold rush of adrenaline as the word  _dad_  echoed in her mind _. Oh, fuck!  
_

"Is he...?" There was a longing in Kurt's voice as he squeezed her hand tighter. "Azazel? He's...he's my  _dad_ , isn't he?"

"Kurt,  _no._ I...I can't..." Clarice shook her head, scrambling to stand, but Kurt quickly pulled her back down to her knees.

" _Bitte?_ " Desperate tears swelled in his eyes. " _Please?_ I can't...I can't handle anymore  _lies!_ "

Clarice held her breath, unsure of what to do or say to rectify this. In the end, her silence was enough of a confirmation. Kurt pulled his hands away, burying his face in them.

" _Why?_ " He begged between wracking sobs. " _Why would you all lie to me?_ " Heartbroken, she put her hand on Kurt's shoulder, but at her touch, he melted away in smoke and shadow.

* * *

Clarice choked back tears as she walked away from the belfry. In spite of her best intentions, she royally  _fucked_  everything up. Not only had she  _betrayed_  Big Brother, but judging by Kurt's reaction, the boy now had to deal with the fact his  _father_  not only had a villainous past, but also denied him the one thing he wanted more than anything else: a  _real_  family.

Peter stood and smiled, pulling off his headphones to acknowledge her return. She couldn't bring herself to look at him. He zoomed over, and she felt his hand close around hers, his thumb running affectionately over her knuckles. Clarice frowned and pulled away.

"Not now," she scowled. " _Red-Light_ , Peter."

"Is everything Ok with Elf?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Clarice crossed her arms, looking at her feet, fighting the salty sting in her eyes. She felt ashamed and embarrassed and stupid; the last thing she wanted was to start crying on top of it. As one tear escaped, she felt Peter's hand on her face, wiping it away. His sudden touch - one she did not initiate - made her jerk back.

"What part of  _Red-Light_  did you not  _understand_?" Clarice snapped.

" _Sorry_  Clarebear," Peter frowned, holding up his hands up as if surrendering. "I was just...I wasn't  _trying_  anything. You're  _upset_ , and..."

"I'm  _fine_ ," Clarice retorted, angrily wiping at her eyes.

"Ok," Peter raised an eyebrow, not looking remotely convinced. "So, I'll just take you downstairs, then...?"

"I'll take  _myself_ ," Clarice answered, stepping away from him. Peter opened his mouth as if to protest, but after a few seconds, he merely nodded and snapped on his goggles. He stood there for a moment looking defeated, like a puppy that had been kicked. Clarice suddenly burned with guilt. He was just trying to help; it wasn't his fault that talking with Kurt had stirred up so many painful memories.

"Peter,  _wait!_ " Clarice reached out, but the speedster had already zipped away. She felt her face really screw up, and her breath now coming in painful gulps. She opened a portal, making her way to the stairs. She ran towards her room, taking the steps two at a time, stumbling as the tears streamed down her face like rain.


	26. Mom & Dad

_I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth; and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord_...Kurt concentrated, but it was really hard to say the rosary when he wasn't holding one.  _And I gave my favorite one to_...he opened his eyes, blinking hard. He wanted to cry, but couldn't summon any more tears. He had already cried so much in the last hour since he teleported away from Clarice that he felt dehydrated.

In retrospect, it all made sense: Azazel, his  _father._ Kurt always thought it had to be more than  _just_   _coincidence_  they both could teleport, had spaded tails, and tapered ears. He always felt they had to be related  _somehow_  - distant cousins maybe, or a shared branch of some unknown family tree - their similarities were just too uncanny.  _But my father?_  Kurt reeled at the thought. He certainly never anticipated _that close_  of a relation.

And, while Clarice hadn't confirmed it, something deep in Kurt's heart  _just knew_  that if Azazel was indeed his  _father_ , then it was Raven who had to be his  _mother_.

When Clarice told Kurt the story her own rescue, she mentioned both Azazel and Raven as her saviors. This put the two colorful mutant together the same year Kurt was born.  _And_ , Kurt reasoned,  _what really are the odds of one person having Azazel's tail, ears, and mutation, but Raven's blue skin and golden eyes?_  The more he thought about the combination, the more everything fit neatly together: Raven showing up at that awful club to rescue him, not even looking twice at the angel. Azazel taking them to Latvia, but Raven fleeing without telling him, and then the red mutant randomly showing up at the _Xavier School_ , looking for Kurt? And in Latvia, Raven knew  _exactly_  how old Kurt was, before he had even told them. All of their tension and fighting, and so much of it seeming to suspiciously revolve around Kurt. Clearly they were divorced or something, probably never even married.  _Fantastic,_ Kurt sighed, putting a hand over his face.  _I'm probably a_ bastard _as well as a mutant_.  _And why am I still the only one with fangs?_  Kurt ran his tongue over his teeth, frowning hard.

The only thing that didn't make sense is  _why_  they would keep this a secret from him. That hurt more than anything else. All Kurt wanted his whole life was to meet his real parents and know where he came from. Now, here they were interacting with him on a daily basis but lying to his face. Why would they do that? Why did they not raise him in the first place? Why would his  _father_  keep Clarice, but not him? And where was his  _mother_  this whole time?  _Why did they not want me? Did they not l_ ove _me?_ Kurt could feel his lower lip trembling again at these thoughts.

It was also upsetting that Clarice knew Azazel was his father but lied to him; he was starting wonder if the Professor knew if Raven was his mother. He wondered how many other people in his life were lying to him, and how he was supposed to trust anyone after today. He buried his face in both his hands; he was made of questions, and wondering where he could possibly go from here.

"Kurt?" He startled at the lilting voice saying his name. He glanced up, surprised to see  _Wanda_ standing just few feet away, her arms lightly crossed as she smiled sadly at him.

" _How_...what are you doing here?" Kurt scrambled to his feet, quickly wiping stray tears from his eyes. He hoped he didn't look as terrible as he felt.

"I asked Peter to help me find you," Wanda thumbed over her shoulder. Peter stood a short distance away, fussing with his Walkman. He looked agitated, which was unusual for the happy-go-lucky speedster.

"I thought maybe we could talk?" She shrugged, biting her lip. "I mean, if you  _want_  to."

" _Ja,_  I guess?" Kurt scratched his neck awkwardly, looking at the ground. "I mean, _sure_."

" _Wandanaconda!"_ Peter yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth. _"_ Do you need anything else...?"

"How about some  _privacy_?" Wanda rolled her eyes, motioning for Peter to scoot. Peter popped his headphones on and caught Kurt's eye. The speedster frowned and pointed at his own silver eyes with two fingers before pointing the same fingers at Kurt in the international ' _I'm watching you'_  gesture. In a blur, Peter was gone.

"Sorry about that," Wanda blushed as she turned back towards Kurt. "Peter can be a little...um,  _over-protective,_ at times."

"It must be  _nice_ ," Kurt mumbled, retaking his seat on the ground. "Having family that  _cares_  about you."

"Are you Ok?" She frowned, gracefully sitting next to him.

"I'm...," he sighed; he didn't have the energy left to even try to pretend. " _Nein_ , I'm not Ok. Every time I close my eyes, I keep seeing those images in my head, or when I teleport, I feel like I am  _falling_."

"Today was kinda  _crazy_ , right?" Wanda agreed, twisting a curl nervously. "I didn't expect to see anything like  _that_."

"I don't think anyone did," Kurt offered, unsure of what else to say. He looked at her bashfully. "I'm sorry I  _ruined_  our date."

"You didn't ruin it," Wanda shrugged. "You just  _postponed_  it, that's all."

"You..." The indigo boy looked at her in surprise. "You  _still_  want to go out with me? Even after today?"

"Yeah I do," She grinned. "Do you still want to go out with me?"

"Of course!" Kurt smiled back weakly. "I just thought maybe, after seeing that stuff with Azazel, you'd reconsider."

"That was Azazel," Wanda dismissed, "Not  _you_."

" _Ja_ , but he is my  _fa_..." the word  _father_  almost slipped out, but Kurt caught it on the tip of his tongue,"... _fa-_ riend!  _Friend_. I thought maybe you wouldn't want to go out with me anymore, if my friends were like that."

"Well, we can't control our friends' actions. It'd be pretty unfair if I blamed you for that."

They sat in silence for few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

"You know, I was twelve when my mutation started," Wanda started, holding up her hand and letting small red sparks burst from her fingertips. "I could sorta control it at first, but eventually, I couldn't hide what was happening. Just after my fourteenth birthday, my dad  _left_  us. He could barely handle Peter being a mutant, and then when he found out his biological daughter was a  _freak_  too..." Wanda took a deep breath. "He blamed our mom for Peter and I, and he left us. I thank God that my mom never turned her back on us. She never treated Peter any differently because of his speed, or because he was her son from a failed relationship. She was  _happy_  for me when I asked to come to the  _Xavier School_. My dad has no idea I'm even here. I haven't spoken to him in over  _two_   _years_."

"Why are you sharing this with me?" There was a gentle curiosity in his voice, and Kurt put his hand over Wanda's in comfort. She smiled, curling her fingers around his.

"Because I think people can  _change,_ for good or for bad, depending on the circumstances."

It was the second time that afternoon that Kurt heard this concept:  _people can change._ Wanda certainly had no reason to defend Azazel or rationalize his actions; not like Clarice had. Kurt pondered the notion; part of him was starting to wonder if it had more merit than he original gave credit.

"My dad was a good dad - well, at least to  _me_ ," she continued, "right up until he decided that I wasn't  _good enough_ to be his kid anymore. And Peter? He used to be kinda a  _jerk:_ stealing stuff, failing school, always getting in trouble with the cops, even having screaming matches with our mom for no reason. But now? Now Peter's the best older brother anyone could ask for, even if he's  _super annoying_  sometimes."

"Hey, I  _heard_  that!"

" _Peter go away!_ " Wanda frowned, pulling her hand away from Kurt's as she yelled over her shoulder. Kurt looked up, and suddenly the speedster was standing not to far away, his arms crossed as he tapped his foot, regarded the two. He held up his hands in an  _'I'm innocent'_  gesture.

"Dude, I was just stopping by to check on..." Wanda huffed, giving her brother a sharp look. He took the hint and zipped away. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she turned back to Kurt.

"You heard Azazel say earlier that what we saw happened a really long time ago, right?"

" _Ja_ , I did," he nodded.

"Well, I started thinking about what he said, and you know what I realized?" Wanda took Kurt's hand again. "Before Mystique appeared on TV and saved President Nixon, America wasn't really a good place for mutants. The military used to hunt them, sometimes even kill and experiment on them, according to my Mutant Studies class. Older mutants like the Professor, Mystique, Dr. McCoy, and Azazel didn't have anything like the  _Xavier School_  when they were our age. They had to survive anyway they could. I can't begin imagine the hardships someone like Azazel must have faced, growing up how he looks in a time when mutants were total outcasts." Wanda paused, looking at Kurt earnestly. "I mean, you've told me stories about some of the prejudice you faced  _outside_  the circus just because of how you look. What if you didn't have your circus family to support you? What if you faced that prejudice, but like,  _alone_?"

"I don't..." Kurt swallowed hard. He always had Mama Margali, Jamaine, and Stefan to help him the few times things got really scary or dangerous.  _Without them..._  "I don't know what I would have done."

"Well, I was just thinking that maybe what we saw today in The Danger Room - Azazel kinda working with that tornado guy and the other man with the helmet - maybe he was just  _surviving_  in a way we'll never have to. I mean, he's been really nice since you've been friends. I just think maybe he is  _different_  now, you know?"

 _Except, he still lied to me about being my dad_ , Kurt thought glumly.  _It's not my friend - it's my_ father _\- who did those horrible things in his past, and I am part of that by blood whether I want to be or not. Kinda like..._ just as Kurt had this dark thought, it dawned on him that the villain  _Magento_  was supposedly Peter's real dad, but Peter was a kind, generous soul. Kurt didn't know Magneto personally, but he knew of the terrible things Magneto had done. Peter shared blood with Magneto, but he wasn't a terrible person because of it. Kurt knew in his heart he was a good person, even if his own father had done terrible things. And Wanda was right; Azazel had been kind - loving and protective, even - since the day Kurt landed in his life. He had certainly been more like the Azazel Clarice described an hour earlier than the Azazel Kurt saw in The Danger Room.

 _And,_ Kurt remembered suddenly, _when I was trapped in that cage with guns pointed at me, I had to hurt that angel or they would have killed me. I didn't want to, but I fought back because I had to survive._ Kurt had an epiphany, almost as if a light bulb illuminated over his head.

Maybe Azazel  _had_  changed.

Maybe Kurt had really only seen shadows of his past - actions performed by mutants banding together to survive in a cruel world - and not the man he knew today. It was a far-fetched and desperate thought, but it did bring Kurt a little comfort. He had so few things in his life he could rely on. He really wanted Azazel to be one of those, and Raven as well. He made up his mind; as soon as possible, he would sit down and talk with both his mom and dad about what the real story was.

 _Mom and dad_ , Kurt mulled over the thought. He was still hurt and angry, and not ready to forgive them for lying, but for the first time in his life, Kurt had a  _real_  mom and dad to even consider forgiving. Their titles suddenly didn't seem as scary.

"Um, _Kurt?_ " Wanda whispered, interrupting his private thoughts. Her pale eyes shimmered in the late afternoon sun, and Kurt was lost, thinking how much she looked the part of the angel he first remembered the day she toured the  _Xavier School._  Before he could answer, Wanda leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

For a second, time stood still.

Fireworks went off in Kurt's head as her lips moved gracefully against his. He felt awkward and clumsy and practically fainted when her tongue brushed the inside of his lips. Kurt cupped her face with both his hands, opening his mouth slightly to reciprocate, hoping his fangs cooperated for once. He hoped he was doing this right. It felt really, really nice, like he maybe was.

Then all too soon, Wanda pulled back, giggling quietly. Kurt opened his eyes, grinning at her like he had drank a whole bottle of  _medicine_  by himself.  _My first kiss!_   _That was...amazing!_  Suddenly feeling brave, Kurt grabbed Wanda's hands and leaned forward for a second kiss, and...

"I don't hear any _talking!_ " Peter's voice called out from across the roof.

Both teens jumped back as if Peter had actually caught them kissing. When they realized they were still alone, they burst out laughing.

"So," Wanda cleared her throat, blushing. "Last I checked, Jean and Scott haven't left for the mall. Maybe, if you still want, we could meet up with them, forget about everything for a little while, at least?"

"I would like that," Kurt took her hand, helping her to her feet. Wanda started fixing her hair, but Kurt stopped her, boldly reaching out and tucking a wayward curl behind her ear like he always wanted to do. Smiling and holding hands, they walked away together to find Peter.

Kurt supposed things could be worse.

* * *

_**Moscow, Russia (U.S.S.R.) - Safe House** _

_Things could not be worse_ , Azazel thought as he struggled to restrain Raven. The blue woman was presently slung over his shoulder, thrashing against him, demanding that he  _put her down_  that instant. In his panic to leave The Danger Room, Azazel jumped to the first place that cross his mind - and old, standby safe house in Moscow. His emotions were running too high for him to realize that Raven had latched onto him until they appeared and she slammed him into a wall to disorient him, less he teleport her immediately back to Westchester. Which, as soon as possible, was his plan.

 _This is the last_ goddamn _thing I need today_ , he seethed, blocking a knee to his face as one of her legs slipped out of his grip. At least he managed to bind her wrists with his tail, although that didn't stop her from jerking her arms up, yanking against his tail to try to throw him off-balance as well as bringing her bound fists down hard on his back. It also didn't help that she was flipping her scales rapidly, making her skin hard to hold on to. He was happy she couldn't change her physical weight as he dragged her towards the bathroom.

The situation in The Danger Room certainly damaged things with Kurt. Azazel knew he'd have to give the boy time and space to cool down first before he could remotely attempt to explain the situation. He considered enlisting Clarice's help to talk to Kurt; the boy was rather fond of her, and it would be helpful if she could explain things from her perspective so he didn't seem like a... _monster_. Azazel shuddered, remembering the anger in Kurt's voice as the boy spit the word at him.  _Yes_ , g _etting Clarice to help talk to Kurt_   _will be the first thing I'll do,_ Azazel thought, _right after breaking all of Dr. McCoy fingers and face..._ He sighed, seizing Raven's ankle as she tried to drive her foot into his stomach. As much as Azazel wanted to hurt Dr. McCoy for that little  _stunt_  - accident or not - it probably wouldn't help his stance with Kurt if Azazel attacked one of the boy's favorite teachers. It certainly wouldn't help him stay on Charles's good side either, especially not with his unexpected passenger making his life extremely  _difficult_  right now. Azazel wasn't in the mood to be blamed for Charles's sister getting killed on some some stupid quest that he unwilling provided transportation for.

From the second they appeared, Raven dropped her weapons bag and led him on a wild chase around the safe house, taking him far too much time and too many teleports to finally catch her. By the time he was able to pin her to the ground, he was was panting hard, his shirt sticking to his skin from exertion. It was only when he saw Raven  _smirking_  that he realized what she had really done: too many teleports in too short of time would exhaust him, making it impossible for him to jump long distances. Right now, Azazel reasoned could probably only move Raven a few miles at most. He was angry at himself for not thinking clearly and falling for her little game.

He fought to keep Raven relatively immobilized as he rummaged through the medicine cabinet. He knew Clarice always kept a few shots of Thorazine in their safe houses for when her nightmares got the best of her. Azazel figured he'd give Raven a shot to safely knock her out. After she was asleep, he could rest for a bit and recoup some strength to make the jump to back to Westchester, and then...

" _Oww!_ " Azazel yelped at an unexpected burst of pain. It was just enough that he loosened his grip and Raven wrenched herself free, slipping off his shoulder and landing on the bathroom floor. He grabbed his tail with both hands; there were clear imprints of  _teeth_  on its spade.

 _She bit me!_  He turned to yell at her, but the woman had already vanished. She got as far as the living room before he tackled her around her legs, forcing Raven to fall forward. She landed hard on the ground, but rolled quickly to her side, seizing her weapons bag in the process. He grabbed for her waist but landed short as she scrambled back, and he almost got clipped in face by a swift kick. When she rolled onto her back, Azazel lunged again, only to suddenly find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. He looked at Raven, breathing hard, his pale eyes going wide.

She cocked the gun.

"Oh  _Christ,_  Raven.  _Really?_ " Azazel yelled in Russian, taking a step back and holding out his arms wide as if to make himself a better target. Raven scrambled to her feet, her gun trained on him. Azazel crossed his arms, glaring at her.

"What a _fucked up_  family this is!"

"You leave me  _here_ ," Raven panted, exhausted from their fight.

" _No_ ," Azazel sighed loudly, rubbing his face. "You  _cannot_  stay here. It's far too  _dangerous_. And put the goddamn gun  _down_ ; we both know you're not going to  _shoot_  me."

She held the gun defiantly for a moment longer before biting her lip, her eyes dropping in guilt. Azazel saw the gun barrel dip slightly.

It was just the opening he needed.

Before Raven could blink, the red mutant was on her, his tail whipping around her ankles and jerking her forward, knocking her clear off her feet. As she fell, he seized her wrists, forcing her arms wide apart. Raven fought back hard, baring her teeth at him like an animal. He teleported them to a far wall, pinning her against it. Azazel slammed her wrist hard against the wall until she cried out, dropping her gun. As the weapon fell, Raven twisted her other arm out of his grasp. Suddenly, her hand darted forward, clamped down hard on the back of his neck and...

...it wasn't until he felt her tongue slide into his mouth that he realized Raven was  _kissing_  him.

Azazel pulled away quickly, looking at her in shock and disbelief. Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly wasn't  _that_.

 _I should teleport her somewhere now, while I have the chance,_ Azazel thought as he assessed his current predicament. Raven continued to gaze up at him, breathing hard as she shifted her scales to her natural colors. He suddenly became acutely aware of so many things at once: how warm her skin was, slightly damp with sweat from their struggle; the fire burning in her golden eyes; the familiar weight of her body in his arms; the rapid pounding of her heart, like a hummingbird in a cage...

And, almost embarrassingly, how incredibly turned on he was getting thinking about all of these things. A coy smile played on Raven's face as she bit her lip suggestively, raising her eyebrow.

 _Oh, fuck it_ , Azazel relaxed his grip, pulling Raven into his arms.  _Who am I kidding?_

As he kissed her, she reciprocated, tangling her hands in his hair as she pulled his mouth eagerly against hers, with a passion he hadn't felt since the day she was torn from his life. After a moment, Raven wrapped her legs around his waist and he pressed her against the wall, his hands sliding away from her face and tracing familiar patterns of her body. He marveled at how badly he missed something as simple as the taste and the texture and heat of her skin. As her mouth trailed away from his and down his neck, Azazel's brain vaguely registered the sound of buttons clattered on the floor as she torn open his shirt.

"My love..." he whispered, feeling her nails dig into his back. "...Down the hall... _bedroom_...we should..." He gasped and clutched her tighter as her hands moved to the front, finding their mark.  _On second thought_ , Azazel slid down to his knees taking Raven with him, _the floor is right here.  
_

She pushed him onto his back, grinning madly as she leaned over him, running her hands down the length of his exposed chest, stopping only when she reached his belt. He pulled her face back to his, kissing her deeply, his tail wrapping itself around her left thigh. He felt her unlatch his belt, her hands tugging his pants down before drawing him out. She straddled his hips, and then...

* * *

Honestly, it was probably the best 27 seconds of his life.

* * *

Afterwards, Raven gazed down at him, a forgiving smile on her face as he grinned up at her like an idiot, gasping for breath.

"So," she leaned forward, tracing her finger lightly down the scar cutting across his face. "You said this place has  _bedroom_ , right?"


	27. Young Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! So, I'm on vacation until the end of the Jan 2018. I didn't want you to think I've abandoned this story, so I posted a few extra exciting chapters to keep you tied over. See you in February!

"Having trouble sleeping?"

" _Ah Professor!_ " Clarice gasped, sitting up quickly and nearly spilling the drink she clutched. She put one hand over her heart, but after catching her breath, she managed a small, lopsided grin. "Oh, you  _scared_  me!"

"Sorry about that my dear," Charles smiled warmly as he wheeled into the kitchen. Really, he  _should_  have known better; he possessed advanced telepathic and emphatic abilities for most of his life, but at times even he forgot that people were not constantly of his presence the way he was tapped into every heartbeat within his mental reach. It had taken him years of practice to stop accidentally reading people's private thoughts and feelings, although he always remained vaguely aware of heightened emotions. The day's earlier events had certainly stirred things up, keeping Charles on high alert whether he wanted to be or not.

"I can't say I really blame you," he added, nodding as she offered to fetch him a hot cocoa, "not after the excitement around here of late."

He had actually just come from Jean's room; the young telepath begged Charles to place preventative blocks in her mind, hoping it would prevent her nightmares from spiraling out of control. If she did have such dreams that night - which was likely, given her earlier  _trauma_  - then Charles knew was really only a matter of time before her unconscious powers manifested physically. He couldn't yet place a finger on the nature of Jean's mutation, but she was certainly one of the most powerful individuals he had ever encountered, whether she wanted to acknowledge this or not. After leaving her room, Charles headed straight to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee; he had a feeling he was in for a long night.

"So, did you find Azazel with,  _ah_...with your  _Cerebro_?" Clarice asked, pouring his drink.

"It took a while, but yes, I managed to locate both Azazel and Raven. They're presently in  _Moscow_ , of all places."

" _Moskva?_ " Clarice echoed in Russian. She frowned, placing his drink down and retaking her seat across from him. She blew on her own drink, furrowing her brow. "I can't  _believe_  he agreed to take her there."

"Truthfully, I think my sister may have hitched a ride without exactly asking the  _driver_." From the little mental contact he had with Raven earlier - most of it watching her evade capture by Azazel - he knew she hadn't exactly gotten the red mutant's  _blessing_  to join him. The telepath only hoped she'd have enough sense to return home as soon as possible; but, he also  _knew_  his sister, and he strongly doubted Raven would return without bringing Erik or his family along with her.

 _Erik Lensherr, how many years has it been?_  Charles mused, blowing to cool his own drink. Never in his wildest dreams did Charles think he'd start surrounding himself again with the very people who stood alongside him that fateful day on the beach.  _Raven, Moira, Hank, Erik, Alex;_  he thought about their younger selves, so full of hope and dreams and ideals for the future only now being realized by his students. These memories only served to make the missing names that much more painful to remember.

Charles turned his attention back to Clarice. He observed the young woman carefully, watching her slender fingers absentmindedly trace the pale scar on her left forearm. She was agitated, and despite his strict feelings about privacy, he couldn't help but feel the emotions rolling off her: worry, regret, sadness, and some underlying fear that he couldn't quite identify. It was no surprise the girl had jumped when he entered unannounced. Charles reached out, his fingers brushing her arm lightly.

"Is something troubling you?" She flinched sharply at his touch, pulling away in alarm.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..." Charles quickly retracted his hand. His nurturing side sometimes forgot that not all mutants were comfortable being touched without being the ones to initiate it.

"No, it's not you," Clarice managed an apologetically smile. "It's just...I had a  _nightmare_ ," she whispered the last word, rubbing her arm. "It was about...well, about what happened to me when I was younger. Today kinda stirred some of it up, again." She turned to him, holding his gaze steady. "I think you saw a little of that, the first day Azazel brought me here."

Charles nodded but didn't respond. There was no accusation in her voice; rather, it was a simple statement of fact. During his initial telepathic assessment of the girl - the same safety procedure he used on all new students and teachers - he had seen glimpses of her long-ago memories. It was times like these - seeing and experiencing the pain and damage inflicted on young mutants that wandered into his school, that Charles felt like he was a caregiver for so many aborted childhoods.

"I wish," she squeezed her eyes shut, drawing a stuttering breath as a silent tear trailed down her face. "I just wish I could take all those memories and get rid of them."

"Memories make us who we are," Charles offered. "Good and bad, memories make us, well...they make us,  _us_."

He had truly come to believe that, over the years. The thing no one told him about taking away someone's memories is that they don't just disappear; they became  _his_  memories, and Charles had relived every one of Moira's stolen moments a thousand times over. He had seen himself through her eyes, and the biggest hesitation he had about giving them back to her back was that he was  _afraid_. Charles was afraid that the beauty and love he saw through her eyes would dissolve the moment he finally showed Moira the truth. It was selfish, but so much of him was afraid that if she knew what he did, she'd never see him the same way again. He couldn't bare the thought of letting all of it go, not just yet.

"You know, I've never said thank you for letting us stay here," Clarice sniffled, interrupting his private thoughts. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. "It really means a lot to me, and I know it means a lot to Azazel, too."

"I never thought I'd say this a few months ago, but that man's grown on me quite a bit," Charles chuckled. "Who would have thought?"

"Yeah, Big Brother's pretty great, once you past the whole," Clarice smirked, waving her hand over her face in a general sweeping motion. "You know."

"You're welcome to stay on at the school, if you'd like," Charles weighed his words carefully. He had been meaning to speak with Azazel about this. He wasn't sure of the feasibility of the two leaving the KGB - it seemed like something of that nature would have to be handled quite carefully - but it seemed to Charles that at least Azazel much preferred being a teacher than an assassin.  _Certainly the hours must be better_ , he humored himself. He had seen the man smile more in the last few months here than he ever imagined possible. "I heard you're quite good with the youngsters, not to mention that I can arrange for training for you to become a teacher or counselor."

"I don't think I should be  _counseling_  anyone," Clarice frowned.

"I take it you feel things didn't go so well with Kurt?" Charles raised an eyebrow. Given the events earlier, Charles had been monitoring the indigo boy's mental state all afternoon; in the last few hours, the boy seemed to be in remarkably better spirits. "I think you did better than you believe you did."

"Sorry, but I highly doubt that," she mumbled, looking away.

"Well, please consider what I said about staying here. I think it would be good for the students as well as for you."

"Maybe, if Azazel stays too," Clarice shrugged. "We've been together for so long I don't know if I could leave him on his own for more than a few days. Ever since I took over the cooking, I'm not entirely sure he know how to feed himself anymore," she added, smirking. "Plus, he'd miss  _me_  too much."

"Would he?" Charles smiled. "Or would you perhaps miss  _him_  too much?"

Clarice regarded him evenly for a moment before laughing quietly and nodding. Charles didn't need telepathy to see the bond between the adopted siblings; he had seen it the day Clarice unquestioningly defended Azazel against Moira's gun, despite Clarice's obvious anger towards him at the time. Given Charles's own relationship with Raven, he was well aware that love could be thicker than blood.

"Professor?" Charles turned quickly at the voice, and was surprised to find Kurt standing in the kitchen doorway.

"No one sleeps at this school, do they?" Charles frowned. By now it was well after curfew, and Kurt wasn't exactly a  _rule breaker_. At Kurt's unexpected appearance, he felt waves of guilt amplify around Clarice.

"I was wondering if I could speak with you?" Kurt shifted his weight nervously between his feet, clutching this tail in front of him with both hands. "About...about my  _parents?_ "

"Your... _parents?_ " Charles asked carefully. It had been a long time since Kurt asked questions about his birth parents. As he watched the indigo boy standing in the doorway, Charles was again struck by how much the young man reminded him of Raven. Of course, Kurt displayed more of his father's physical features, but it was the boy's shyness and uncertainty that reminded Charles so much of a younger and once quite bashful Raven.  _Not that Kurt knows that my sister is his mother_ , Charles told himself.

" _Ja_ , my  _parents_ ," Kurt repeated, swallowing hard. "Um, Azazel and Raven?"

" _Oh fuck_ _!_ " Charles's eyes lit up and he looked quickly at Clarice. She turned away, unable to meet his gaze, guilt now coming off her in gale force. It was obvious to the telepath that she was responsible for informing Kurt of this fun fact, although Charles doubted it had been intentional. He turned back to his now not-so-secret nephew.

"I'm sorry; pardon my  _outburst_ ," Charles looked at him patiently for a few seconds. "But you...you  _know_?"

Kurt nodded vigorously, and Charles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Promise me you'll at least try to look surprised when they tell you?" Kurt raised an eyebrow as Charles ran his hand nervously through his hair. He didn't even want to  _think_  about how Raven was going to react to this news, not that he ever really agreed she should have kept this secret in the first place.

"Well then, come along then," he waved to Kurt as he moved towards the exit. "Let's meet in my office."

"Can I have a few minutes first,  _bitte_?" Charles watched Kurt's golden eyes - Raven's eyes, really - focus on Clarice. "I would like to speak with Clarice." Charles looked over, and the girl nodded to Kurt.

Charles wheeled out of the kitchen; Jean's nightmares suddenly seemed the least of his worries that night.

* * *

Kurt waited patiently until the Professor had left before turning to Clarice. She stared at him, looking nervous to the point of almost appearing frightened.

"May I sit?" Kurt pointed at a spot next to her. She shifted to make room. Kurt teleported over, flicking his tail to his side as he cleared his throat and folded his hands in his lap. He had spent the last hour practicing all the things he wanted to say before sneaking out of his room (after offering a quick prayer to Saint Maria Goretti for forgiveness for breaking school curfew).

"I want to  _thank_ you," as he spoke, Kurt saw Clarice cock her head, surprise flashing across her features. "Thank you for telling me the truth today. I know you feel badly for it, but knowing who Azazel - who my  _dad_ really is...," Kurt swallowed thickly. "This is really important to me."

"I only told you about Azazel,  _accidentally_ ," Clarice raised her eyebrow. "How did you come to your decision about  _Raven_?"

"It just makes the most sense," Kurt offered. "What I know about their history, the way they act around each other, how they act around me. And because I know Azazel's my dad, well...I mean,  _look_  at me." Kurt held out his arms, calling attention to his demonic features and indigo skin. "Also, seeing the Professor's reaction a minute a go... _um_ , he kinda just confirmed it,  _ja_?"

"You deserved to know from the start," Clarice sighed, looking down at her hands. "They had their reasons for not telling you, not right away at least. And  _please_ ," there was a sadness in her voice that Kurt hadn't anticipated, " _please_  know I was sworn to secrecy, and so was the Professor. We're stuck in the middle just trying to help the people we love because they asked us to."

"I'm still not  _happy_ about...well, about  _everything_...but I know why you'd protect Azazel, if he asked you." Kurt placed a hand gently on Clarice's shoulder. She didn't pull away; rather, she gave him a sad smile and her hand over his, her eyes glistening. Kurt felt a wave of relief wash over him. One thing he noticed about Clarice is that the only person she let touch her was Azazel, and that's because he was  _family_.

"I really can't tell you much else - you really need to let them tell their own stories - but I can say this," Clarice squeezed Kurt's hand tightly. "They both love you in their own way  _very much_ , and I know they would have kept you if they'd had the chance."

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, Kurt rallied the courage to ask her something else he needed to know.

"If Azazel's my  _dad_ , and you're his  _Little Sister,_ " Kurt began nervously, "does that make you like,  _meine Tante?_ My aunt?"

"Technically, I'm  _adopted_ , but..." Clarice searched Kurt's face. "Do you want me to be?"

" _Ja_ ," Kurt nodded. " _Ja_ , I want that."

"Then surprise!" Clarice laughed, her eyes glistening as she threw her arms out for show. "You have an  _aunt!_ "

"I have an  _aunt!_ " He echoed, wiping away the tears now slipping down his face. With her admission, Clarice was the first  _real family member_  who ever acknowledged him as her own.

"Do you think...?" Kurt was afraid to ask, but part of him desperately needed to know. "Do you think you will ever love me, like how you loved Tuan?"

" _Oh Kurt_ ," Clarice's voice broke when she said his name, her face screwing up. She pulled him into a hug. This time, Kurt hugged her back, overwhelmed with the strength and acceptance he felt in her arms. Her warm tears wetted his shoulder and face as she held him in the tight embrace. "Oh  _honey_ , I  _already_  do."

After a few moments, she pulled back but held his face affectionately in both her hands, laughing through her tears. Kurt smiled and laughed too, putting his hands over hers.  _I have an aunt_ , he thought triumphantly.  _I have a real family._

"But seriously Kurt?" Clarice shook her head, smiling. "You gotta look surprised when they tell you, Ok?"

* * *

" _Clarice?_ "

"Hey Peter," Clarice leaned easily against the door frame, her arms lightly crossed as she faced him in the dark. She had just walked Kurt to the Professor's office before secretly sneaking into the boys' dormitory wing. Late hour or not, there was something she needed to do.

" _Wha_..." Peter yawned, his voice was thick with sleep, "...what  _time's_  it?" The silver-haired youth flipped on his nightstand lamp. As he focused on her, he seemed to suddenly realize he wasn't wearing a shirt, and quickly pulled his bed sheet up to his neck. Clarice put a hand to her mouth, fighting the urge to giggle at Peter's unexpected modesty. She glanced around; it was her first time actually seeing the speedster's room, and it was an utter  _disaster_  - clothing, records, books, and empty snack boxes were scattered throughout - but honestly, Clarice hadn't expected anything different.

"It's late," she admitted, closing the door quietly behind her. "I'm sorry for waking you, but I was hoping we could talk?"

"Are you breaking up with me?"

" _What?_ " Clarice raised her an eyebrow, confused. "Peter, we only went out  _once_."

"I know," Peter shrugged, giving her a childish grin, "but I was kinda hoping that if I said you were my  _girlfriend_ , you'd just like,  _go along_  with it."

"I don't know a lot about dating," Clarice shook her head, snicking as she walked over to take a seat on his bed, "but I'm pretty sure that's  _not_  how it works."

"Can you close your eyes for a second?" Clarice nodded and covered her face. She felt a swift breeze stir the room and a weight shifted on the bed. When she uncovered her eyes, Peter was sitting next to her, now wearing baggy pajama pants and a t-shirt.

"Green-light?" He asked, pointing at her hand on the bed. After snapping at him earlier, she didn't blame his hesitation. She held out her hand, and he took it in both of his, rubbing it affectionately. "What's on your mind, Clarebear?"

"I wasn't entirely honest with you the other night," Clarice's voice shook slightly with trepidation as she gazed directly into Peter's silver eyes. If they had  _any_  shot at a future, she needed to be honest from the start. It wasn't fair to lie to him, and after everything with Kurt, she could see now that even well-meaning lies could have long-lasting damage.

"There are things about me you need to know. I'm not actually a teacher here; Azazel and I work for the KGB. I've done bad things...I've hurt people, and...people have hurt me. When I was a little girl, I watched my family die. I was sold into bondage by group of  _horrible_  men, and I..." her breath caught in her throat. Peter held her hand as her tears started to flow. She took a deep breath and told him about her time as a trafficking victim, her rescue, and her subsequent years getting revenge against the people responsible for her pain. She told him all about Tuan and her life as Tien, about working with Azazel in the KGB, about wanting to stay at Westchester and all the other secrets that carved out the truth of who she really was.

When she found she had no more words to say, Clarice was surprised at how much lighter she felt, as if a weight she never knew she carried had lifted from her soul. She dabbed at her eyes - at some point, Peter had given her a box of tissues - and she turned to gauge his reaction.

"Whoa,  _truth bomb,_ " Peter nodded. He took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks out as he released it. He turned to face her, taking both her hands in his.

"Ok, here goes: I'm actually red-green colorblind, so I hope you don't like museums because paintings all pretty much look brown to me. Except, for some reason I can see  _your_  green eyes, which is totally  _boss_  because it's the only time I've ever really seen that color in my life, well without the color-correcting goggles Hank made me. I can also sometimes see the red in Wanda's hair and in Azazel's skin without my goggles - who knows, maybe it's a mutant thing - but their red colors aren't as nearly as  _brilliant_  as your green. I have a juvie record about a mile long, and once when I was sixteen I broke into my step-dad's liquor cabinet and I got really wasted and barfed all over the living room, and then I totally blamed it on the family dog. Also, I'm twenty-five and until a few weeks ago, I lived in my  _mom's basement_. This room?" Peter held his arms out, motioning to their surroundings. "This room is like the first apartment I've ever had of my own, except it's a  _dorm room_  in a  _high school_. Oh, and my real dad is the  _international terrorist_ Magneto _._ I'm a _total loser._ So, that about covers me." He raised an eyebrow playfully. "Is there anything else you need to get off your chest? Because, now's the time."

"That pizza you bought me from Boston wasn't the  _best_  I ever had," Clarice offered a half-smile in spite of her tears. "Don't get me wrong - it was really  _good_  - but it wasn't the  _best_." At her admission, Peter threw back his head, rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically.

"Ok, that last one  _hurt_  a little, I gotta be honest," he glanced at her, his eyes sparkling with sarcasm.

"I'm sorry I got short with you earlier on the roof," Clarice sniffled.

"Hey, it's alright," Peter smiled reassuringly. "That'll happen sometimes, especially with me. It's just important that we talk when it does, like how we did right now. You know," he shrugged, suddenly very serious. "You're the only person I've ever met who makes me want to be still. With everyone else, I'm always struggling, like they're talking or moving too slowly and I feel like I'm endlessly waiting, but when I'm with you...it's like suddenly I  _want_  to be quiet and I want to wait and listen, and the world seems to move at just right pace."

Clarice smiled; she knew  _exactly_  what he meant, because she had started to feel the same. She gazed at Peter for a second before leaning over and pressing her lips against his. He took her face in both hands as he returned her affection. Feeling bold, she opened her mouth slightly, letting her tongue brush against his, enjoying feeling his teeth gently biting her lower lip. After a few minutes, she pulled back, smiling sweetly.

"Can I can sleep here tonight, with you?" Clarice whispered. Peter sat back, his silver eyes going wide in surprise.

" _Wow!_ Do you mean, like...?" He made a circle with his one hand and thrust his finger into it.

"No, you  _doorak_ ," Clarice laughed at his gesture, playfully slapping his hands. "That is  _definitely_  still a red-light. I meant: can I stay here, in your room?"

"Oh! That's  _uh_..that's what I meant too," Peter nodded, his cheeks flushing brightly. "I...sure, I can sleep on the floor. I mean, if I can  _find_  it."

In the blink of an eye, Peter was standing next to his dresser.

"Now, before things get too  _serious_ ," he rummaged through an open drawer. "I have to ask you a question that's going to determine the fate of our relationship." She arched her eyebrow as the speedster held up two pajama pants, unfurling them in the air.

"Batman or Superman?" Clarice laughed, pointing to a pair at random. Peter tossed the other pair haphazardly back in the dresser, and gave Clarice a faded band t-shirt that passed a brief sniff test. He politely turned away so she could change into the sleeping clothes. She slipped under the covers, fluffing the pillow.

"Cool," Peter ran a hand through his hair, "so, I'll just find a spot..."

"Can you stay here?" Clarice sat up, patting the bed next to her. "With me?"

"Are you sure?" Peter climbed into the bed only after she confirmed again. He slid under the covers next to her, turning off the light and laying on his back.

"Red-light, green-light?" He moved his arm, motioning that he wanted to hold her.

"Green," Clarice replied as she rolled onto her side, placing her hand on his chest and laying her head over his heart. Peter wrapped both his arms around her, his chin resting easily on top of her head. She closed her eyes, listening to the lullaby beating of his heart and breathing in his scent. They lay for a long time, drinking in warm, comfortable silence that cocooned around them.

"Hey, Clarice?" Peter whispered.

"Yeah?" Her eyes fluttered, fighting the instinct to sleep.

"There's something else I need to tell you."

She turned so that her chin rested on her hand over his heart, her half-open eyes fixed on his. Peter brushed her hair back, a drowsy smile on his face as he tucked the loose waves behind her ear, his fingers resting against her cheek.

"I think I'm in love with you."

Clarice didn't respond; rather, she squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. She took Peter's hand from her cheek and laced her fingers through his, bringing it to her mouth and kissing it before pulling it tightly to her heart. Peter kissed the top of her head, pressing his cheek against her forehead as he held her securely, humming some off-key rendition of a song he liked until his humming was replaced with quiet, rhythmic snoring.

As someone whose life had been defined by the ten thousand possible ways her body could hurt, Peter was starting to remind Clarice, every now and then, that her heart didn't exist exclusively to feel pain.


	28. Heartbreak

Kurt sat with his hands folded in his lap and a frown etched onto his normally cheery features. He had been speaking with the Professor - his  _uncle_ , he had confirmed - for a little over an hour, but so many of his questions remained unanswered. Kurt wasn't even sure what he should even call the Professor anymore.  _Uncle Charles_  sounded too familiar for his school's Headmaster.  _Maybe Uncle Professor? At least, I think_ 'uncle' _is the correct English word,_ Kurt puzzled. For the first time in his life, the indigo boy realized he'd have to work on nailing down proper family titles. He wasn't really sure what to start calling everyone, or even what all the words were in English for Raven's family.  _Plus_ , he reasoned, pursing his lips,  _I should really learn some of family titles in Russian for Azazel and maybe even Vietnamese for Clarice_. Kurt sighed internally; he was finally getting the real family he always prayed for, but so far they were proving  _difficult_  in every aspect, from common languages right down to keeping  _major_  secrets from each other.

He was starting to wonder if all families were this challenging, or if he was really just this  _lucky_.

"Why didn't they just tell me?" Kurt pleaded with his Uncle Professor. It was probably the third time Kurt expressed this frustration, and in just as many times, the man nodded in empathetic agreement.

"They each had their reasons," the man replied patiently. "Please understand keeping this from you wasn't an  _easy_  decision for either of them." Truthfully, he looked just as frustrated with the entire situation as Kurt felt. It brought him a small measure of comfort to know he wasn't the only one affected by his parents' deceitful actions and words.

Kurt had been quite surprised to learn that Uncle Professor hadn't even known Kurt  _existed_  until the day the indigo boy arrived at the school, nor did the man know Kurt's actual heritage until Azazel appeared two months later, forcing a confrontation with Raven. The telepath admitted that he secretly suspected the connection between Raven and Kurt from his sister's odd behavior, her decision to personally escort Kurt to Westchester, and of course, from Kurt's own striking resemblance to Raven's natural blue state. However, the telepath hadn't been aware of any of his sister's activities during her missing years. Until Azazel arrived at the school gates, he hadn't the slightest idea that Raven had any relationship with the red mutant; the last Uncle Professor knew, his sister had been in love with Erik Lehnsherr, better known as  _Magneto_ , better  _better_  known as  _Peter Maximoff's father_ , as if Kurt wasn't already overwhelmed by the entire situation. If things between Kurt and Wanda got serious, Kurt was already dreading the fact that holiday dinners and family get-togethers now had the potential to be really,  _really_   _awkward_. The day Azazel came to Westchester, the telepath final got a better - although still very  _incomplete_  - look at the story of Raven's life after the siblings parted ways. From the little the man honestly knew, it seemed that Raven had truly believed Azazel was dead when she gave birth, and that Raven had left Kurt to Mama Margali because she was in danger and she felt it was the only way to protect her son. As far as Azazel, Uncle Professor at least confirmed that the man didn't know he even had a son until the night he met Kurt in Latvia.

It was enough to be a  _movie_ , as far as Kurt was concerned. _But still..._

"It doesn't make all the  _lying_ Ok," Kurt grumped, feeling crestfallen. "Shouldn't parents love their child more than that?"

"Sometimes the hardest thing we have to do is hide something from someone we love," Uncle Professor said, frowning and gazing down at his lap. He seemed distracted and lost in thought for a few seconds before turning his returning his attention. "Rest assured, they do both love you, and you don't need telepathy to see it. "

"Then  _what_  is the problem?"

"I think the problem is that they don't know how to love each other anymore," Uncle Professor sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Kurt cocked his head. He felt like they were talking in circles. Part of him felt guilty for pressing Uncle Professor for information he knew the man simply didn't have, but in lieu of his parents being available to ask questions, the telepath was the best resource for answers he had.

"Your parents were married; technically, I believe they still are," Uncle Professor continued, "but something happened that drove them apart, making them believe the other to be dead or gone for the last seventeen years. But whatever happened to separate them, it didn't dissolve the bond they created. I have seen glimpses of this love in their minds and it's so very  _beautiful_ , but it's  _overwhelming_  too, especially for two people who for a long time felt the only things they could count on were hurt and hardship. They're like gunpowder and a match together, and they might easily be the most  _stubborn_  individuals I have ever met. I can honestly say I'm glad it seems like you failed to inherit that particular trait from either of them."

At this comment Kurt laughed out loud, making the telepath grin.

"You also have to to understand that my sister... _er_ , your  _mother_ ," he corrected himself. Kurt was happy he wasn't the only one struggling with the new titles. "She's still so  _afraid_. She's afraid of disappointing those she loves and of not being true to herself and her ideals. She does amazing, noble things by saving young mutants - mutants who were in her situation when I first met her as a young girl - but after she saves them, she runs and she hides. It's what she's done her whole life because it's the only safe thing she knows. She can't let herself get attached to anyone, not anymore. I read her mind the day Azazel arrived and I know she sees you as a reflection, as the best parts of her, but she's so afraid that she won't live up to your expectations of her, let alone her expectations of what a mother should be."

Kurt looked down at his hands, letting these words sink it. Part of him could understand Raven's fear, but the bigger part of him wanted to scream at her that he just  _didn't care_. Deeply flawed or not, she was still his  _mother_ , and he would love her as his mother, just as he would still love Azazel as his father in spite of everything he saw in The Danger Room earlier that day.

 _Besides, people can change_ , Kurt reminded himself. It was rapidly becoming his mantra.

"Kurt?" Uncle Professor looked at him imploringly. "I want you to know that, no matter what happens when your parents return, you'll always have a place here as  _family_."

 _First Clarice, now Uncle Professor_...Kurt's heart was a river, overflowing its banks with emotion. His lip started trembling and he nodded, blinking back tears.

"And, if it's not too much trouble to ask," the man smiled warmly, holding his arms out wide. Kurt thought he saw a shimmer in the man's periwinkle eyes, but he could be mistaken; it might have been his own happy tears he saw reflected. "Would you mind finally giving your  _Uncle Charles_  a hug?"

It was all the encouragement Kurt needed. He teleported over and threw himself into Uncle Professor's arms so fiercely, he almost knocked them both over.

* * *

_**Moscow, Russia (U.S.S.R.) - Safe House** _

Azazel woke suddenly, the bed sheets pooling around his waist as he bolted upright. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim bedroom interior, and to remember that he was in  _Moscow_ , not  _Westchester_. He winced, putting his hands over his eyes; even the dark surroundings felt somehow too bright for the dull drumbeat ache in his head.

His entire mouth felt cottony and his tongue felt oddly swollen. Azazel frowned, rubbing his face. He couldn't be  _hungover._ He and Raven only shared  _one_  bottle of wine last night, the one Raven convinced him they should get along with ordering in cheap take-out after their third or forth round of sex.  _Like we used to do when we were young_ , she had begged, a kittenish smile on her face as she lay curled against him, running her fingers along the edge of his tail's spade. The blue woman had masterfully positioned herself long ago Azazel's as one true _weak spot;_  he never could say  _no_ to her, not when she looked at him like that, and especially not when she played with his tail.

He tried opening his eyes again, slowly this time. On the nearest nightstand sat the empty wine bottle, a used glass, and a take-out carton with chopsticks still sticking out of it. Overhead, the ceiling fan hummed rhythmically. One of his socks was draped over a fan blade, along for the languid ride. Azazel flexed his toes as he watched the sock spin. He wondered where his other one was, and if he had any clean clothing at this safe house. Glancing at the thin curtains, he also wondered why it was still so  _dark_. He didn't remember actually falling asleep, but they had gone to bed late enough that the room should be flooded with light. Really, it should be early afternoon by now.

He turned to wake Raven, and felt a cold rush of alarm when he realized her side of the bed was empty. Azazel held his breath, listening carefully. His alarm began to amplify when he failed to hear any noises in depths of the apartment. He quickly pushed off the bed sheets.  _I'm being paranoid,_ he reasoned, swinging his legs over the side. _Raven's probably just in the bathroom or kitchen, maybe I should find my pants first..._

His knees buckled the moment he stood, and Azazel suddenly found himself sprawled on the floor.

The red mutant gritted his teeth, trying to prop himself up by his elbows and shaking his head as if trying to clear the fogginess from his mind. By now, the room was positively spinning.

 _Something's not right_ , his mind raced. He lay on his side for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Falling back on his years of combat training, he started taking mental inventory of his physical condition: he could move his legs, but they didn't seem to quite want to go along with what he was telling them to do. His tail also felt all wrong; normally quite agile, it was now numb and slack and dragged on the floor as he started pulling himself towards the nightstand, thinking to use it as leverage to help him get back up. All of his movements felt slow and jerky, as if he was trying to move underwater, and...

Azazel inhaled sharply and snapped his hand back from where he grabbed the nightstand. Something had stabbed his finger. He held his hand in front of his face, trying to focus. A trickle of blood seeped down his ring finger.  _What the...?_  He manged to sit up enough to push the wine bottle away, letting it fall to the floor. Behind it were two empty hypodermic syringes sitting on top of a hastily scribbled note.

_Looking for these last night? - R_

It was Clarice's Thorazine.

 _She couldn't have_...Azazel's eyes grew wide as he crumpled the note in his hand. He refused to believe it. Raven  _couldn't_  have drugged him. He would have felt it if she had stabbed a shot into him, and sedatives like Thorazine take up to an hour to have an effect on him due to his mutation.  _She couldn't have_...

Then his eyes landed on his discarded wine glass, and he could almost feel his heart sinking.

While waiting for the take-out, they had laid in bed talking. Raven started discussing  _their_  plans to search for Erik, but Azazel stopped her immediately, letting her know that they'd both be going back to Westchester first thing in the morning. He remembered that for a second, Raven narrowed her eyes, looking poised to start an argument; but then she suddenly smiled and agreed that maybe he was right. He also vaguely recalled that after answering the door in a fake face to retrieve their food, Raven excused herself to use the bathroom, only to appear in the bedroom doorway laughing and holding up two wine glasses. Until that point they had been drinking straight from the bottle, but Raven insisted on pouring their drinks, teasing him by saying he was taking longer drinks from the bottle and it wasn't fair. He didn't suspect anything at the time - why would he have? - but she must have emptied the syringes into his glass first and diluted the taste with the cheap wine.

And of course, she left the shots on the nightstand for him to find. He looked again at the curtains; it was so dark because it was probably the middle of the night. That much Thorazine would have knocked him out for an entire day at least.

Furious, Azazel grabbed the glass and threw it as hard as he could against the opposing wall. Upon impact, it shattered into a thousand pieces. He followed it with the wine bottle. He put his back against he nightstand, struggling to pull his knees to his chest and cradling his face in his hands.

 _How can I be this stupid?_ Azazel took a few gulping breaths. He felt tears stinging on the backs of his eyes, and he desperately fought the instinct to cry. After all these years, the urge to cry should have been beaten out of him; really, the urge to be emotional at all should be gone. In the weeks after he was taken from his mother as a small child, any time he cried or whined, the soldiers responded with savage beatings. After a few broken bones, he became quite good and suppressing his feelings, learning to turning them on and off at will. As he grew into an adult, Azazel learned to be personable and charming when it served him, but he could be ruthless and cold and detached when required. It was the only way to survive his training and eventual line of work.

Raven was the only person in his adult life who truly got past all the emotional walls Azazel carefully constructed. He refused to believe that she could have seen last night as an ends to a means. It was just too much. The very thought that she would have used love as a distraction...

It hurt more than anything else; more than getting stabbed or shot or any other physical pain Azazel had ever endured.

Raven wasn't the first woman Azazel had ever shared a bed with, but she was the first woman - the  _only_  woman, really - that he ever wanted to fall asleep holding, to be the last person he saw at night and the first to see upon waking. From the day they married, Azazel would often wake up and find his tail wrapped around the blue woman's ankle or wrist of its own accord. She would always smile and tease him, saying he was afraid she was going to run away during the night. When she was really gone, simply sleeping next to her was one of the things he had missed the most; the comfortable weight of her body next to his, the simple luxury of accidentally brushing against her familiar skin as she slumbered. No matter how much they moved or how many different safe houses or headquarters they occupied, Raven always made wherever they were feel like  _home_.

The last morning they were together - the morning of the raid - was overall uneventful, but Azazel had played that memory over and over in his mind a thousand times. It was only eventful because it was the  _last_  time they were together.

They started the day in Minsk, and it had been raining. They stayed in bed for a long time - too long, really - lounging and talking about nothing important: who's turn it was to do laundry, what to do for dinner later, what assignment should they take next? Eventually, he got up to take a shower and she left to get breakfast. He remembered seeing her later, standing in the entry way in her pretty blonde disguise, laughing and holding a soaked newspaper over her head after she got caught in a downpour because she just to fetch her  _favorite_  croissants from the local bakery.

He remembered the taste of those croissants on her lips later, the last time they made love. He remembered telling her that she was his heart; little did both of them know on that last morning that Kurt was also with them; a tiny, unknown heart beating between them.

It's funny how little seventeen years can change some things in that regard. Raven and Azazel always had a relationship of few words; they always seemed to know what the other was thinking, which was why they had worked flawlessly as a team. Last night as he held her in his arms again, Azazel realized he never stopped loving her, not for one second in all the time they had been apart. No matter where, Raven would always be his heart, his home.

And yet, he had lost her again.

 _Except this time_ , he realized bitterly,  _I also lost my son, and even Little Sister is no longer around._ After yesterday, Azazel wasn't sure if things could be repaired with Kurt, and he knew he had no right to take Clarice away from the school, not when he could see her growing and opening up in ways he was never able to give her.

For the first time in twenty one years, Azazel realized that he was completely  _alone_.

This time when the tears came, he had no power to stop them.


	29. The Origins of Love

_**The Polish People's Republic, Poland (U.S.S.R.) - Abandoned Gorzky House - 5 Days Later** _

Raven sat at the meadow's edge, her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped loosely around them as she stared at the twin graves. Wildflowers grew around their freshly churned dirt, twisting their way up towards the sun. She found their scent comforting. Raven always liked wildflowers, those fiery little plants that grew in spite of adversary, that no one could tame. In one hand, she clutched a small silver necklace. Its delicate chain wound through her fingers and its locket hung down from her palm like a teardrop. Raven knew this necklace very well. It was Erik's prized possession; the only photographs of his parents that he had. It was only fitting that she found the locket laying on the makeshift gravestones that marked what she was sure Erik's  _real_  prized possessions were: his now deceased wife and daughter.

It had been five days since Raven slipped out of Moscow, and it took her just as long to track down information leading to  _Henrky Gurzky's_  abandoned home in the tiny, backwoods village. At least there Raven thought she might find clues to Erik's current whereabouts. After all her searching, the only thing Raven found was the knowledge that she was simply  _too late_. From her disguised interactions with locals, Raven learned that Henrky's family was dead, the band of police who tried to bring him to justice murdered, and the villain Magneto resurrected and gone. The blue woman found no other leads; she only found a wide swath of death and destruction in his wake. She knew in her heart there would be no finding Erik now, and certainly no appealing to his senses after he suffered a tragedy of this magnitude.

Not knowing what else to do, Raven sat vigil at those little graves for hours, crying for Erik and the family he lost; crying for her own that she tore apart.

The blue woman wasn't  _stupid_ ; she knew her actions in Moscow had damaged things with Azazel, most likely irreparably so. She hadn't planned on kissing him, and she certainly hadn't planned for anything that followed. It was as if Azazel's proximity during their struggle woke a muscle memory in her, finally breaking the tension building between since the day their paths crossed again in East Berlin. She knew he felt the rekindled connection too; she could see it in how he looked at her, and feel it in how his fingers traced every inch of her skin. She would be a fool to try and convince herself that she wasn't still in love with Azazel, even after all their years apart.

So naturally, Raven  _panicked_.

She had recklessly, physically given in to her feelings without considering  _any_  long-term consequences. When she brought up searching for Erik again, reality set in when Azazel made it quite clear  _they_  were going back to Westchester first thing in the morning. The finality of his words - of his stubborn refusal to help - was like a slap in her face. For last ten years, Raven worked alone; she didn't have anyone dictating her decisions, and certainly not telling her who she could and couldn't rescue.  _Why couldn't Azazel understand that searching for Erik was so much than helping a former teammate?_  Raven frowned. Erik had a  _family_  now; Magento had been cast aside so that Henrky could raise his child in peace, something Raven knew over the years if they would have done if given half the chance. In a way, her desperation to help Erik was an atonement for abandoning Kurt and Azazel; if Raven could save just one mutant family, it would all be  _worth_  it.

Distraught, Raven excused herself to splash cold water on her face; that's when she saw the syringes of Thorazine still on the bathroom sink. She grabbed the drugs along with two glasses from the kitchen, forming a plan on the fly. Raven didn't fully stop to think about what she had done until after Azazel passed out, and by then, it was too late. She left the syringes, a note, and putting on a new face, she fled from Moscow, tears of fear and frustration blurring her path as she ran.

Now she was sure Azazel wanted nothing to do with her, save for maybe putting a knife to her throat.

As she pondered her many mistakes, Raven found her thoughts drifting back to son.  _My poor, sweet Kurt,_  she frowned. She failed her child in every way. Once again, she had snatched away his real family right from his grasp. Raven had recently even considered sitting down with Kurt and Azazel and finally admitting the truth, but after watching the boy's reaction to her memories in The Danger Room - another moment where she failed Kurt and this time, Azazel - she was sure it was a lost cause. No child should have to deal with their parents' monstrous pasts, and Raven wasn't exactly  _innocent_. She had helped Azazel assassinate people during their time after Cuba in the KGB. She might not have fired the killing shots or twisted the knives, but her shape-shifting, gathering information, setting traps and playing roles all culminated in Azazel's skillful ability to end a life.

 _And all of it, for what?_ Tears stung Raven's eyes again. She wondered if she could ever go back to Westchester or see Kurt again. She wiped her face with the back of her hands. Raven hadn't felt this lost and alone and afraid since the day she woke up in the Munich forest, cradling her son. She had carefully covered her tracks while running across the East. So far, she had evaded detection by the KGB and their operatives. Raven wondered where she would go from there, and how long she could manage to avoid Azazel.

* * *

He found her anyways, just before sunset.

Raven didn't actually hear him appear, but she didn't need to turn around to know exactly who was approaching when she did hear footstep bending the meadow grass. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, waiting. For what, she didn't exactly know. A knife to her throat maybe, or a bullet in her head; at the rate her life was spiraling out of control, nothing seemed inappropriate. All she knew was in that moment and with everything that had happened, she was done running and hiding. Raven had been running for seventeen years and frankly, she was  _tired_.

The footsteps stopped, just a few feet behind where she sat. Raven held her breath.

"You took my  _shoes_."

Raven turned towards Azazel's voice, blinking her eyes widely in surprise. He stood very still, regarded her quietly for a few seconds before driving his long sword into the soil. She flinched at the sound of the metal biting the ground - for a second, she imaged the sword cutting into her - and he twisted it once so it could stand securely on its own. Azazel then took a seat nearby in the meadow grass facing the graves. He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back, bracing his weight on his hands. His tail curled over his right leg, its spade twitching leisurely as he looked her over. 

Whatever Raven had been expecting, this certainly wasn't it.

"I might have been able to forgive your for everything else," he said almost causally, defaulting to Russian. "But, they were my  _favorite_  pair.  _Thankfully_ ," he motioned to the shoes he currently wore, "I found another pair in the house." His pale eyes were unreadable as he sized her up. Raven started back at him, determined not to show any fear.

"What kind of a person takes someone's  _shoes_?" She swore she heard a note of  _amusement_  in Azazel's question.

In spite of everything, she couldn't help but crack a small, meek smile. After all, he was right: she  _had_  taken his shoes. It was a trick she learned years ago: take away someone's shoes, and it takes them longer to get ready to find her. This was especially helpfully when she was the run; any extra moment gained while someone was looking for their shoes was a godsend.

"I didn't  _take_  them, I  _hid_  them," she admitted, looking guiltily down at her hands. "They're in the fireplace."

"Ah  _yes_ , the  _fireplace_ ," he shook his head, continuing to stare at her. "Of  _course_."

"How did you find me?" She asked quietly, only after a reasonable amount of time had passed that seemed like he wasn't going to harm her, at least not immediately. Raven didn't fully drop her guard; she knew Azazel well enough to know that even a peaceful approach could still easily end in bloodshed.

"Caliban owed me a  _favor_ ," Azazel shrugged. "It also seems his bodyguard was recruited by a strange mutant who was also looking for Magneto. He was interested in enough in  _revenge_ that he told me where I could find Magneto's home. I figured that was the best place to start looking for you, but," Azazel nodded in her direction, "I guess I am  _lucky_."

Raven studied his face carefully and he stared back at her, unblinking. Azazel didn't look like he was lying or omitting anything; he looked like he was telling the truth. If anything, Azazel simply looked  _tired_.  _Probably just as tired of of all this bullshit as I am_ , Raven realized.

Eventually, he  _turned_  his gaze away from her to look over the little graves. He narrowed his eyes before frowning, and Raven could only assume he guessed whose graves they were. She heard a distinct clink of metal under his suit jacket as he shifted his weight. It had been a long time since she had seen Azazel geared-up for a mission. Looking at him, Raven knew there were no less than seven blades on his person. There was his long sword of course, currently planted in the ground, and its shorter curved partner still holstered to his hip. She knew there were two concealed daggers on each forearm, secured in such a way he could quickly slide them into his hands or into some unlucky target's throat at the flick of his wrist. She also knew he'd have a set of stiletto blades strapped to his right lower leg, under his pants. These were for stealth, blades that could be silently removed when stalking a target from the shadows.  _And of course_ , she mused, a  _trusty, last resort pocket knife_. Raven had seen him take out three men in the same number of minutes with only his pocket knife, proving that it wasn't  _size_ , but rather  _skill_ , that truly mattered.

One new addition was the gun handle protruding from his belt. Raven cocked her head slightly to catch Azazel's eye. She motioned towards the gun with her chin. He looked down briefly before seeming to remember it was there. He rolled his eyes as he pulled the weapon out and offered it to her. She felt a wave of relief wash over her as she took it; if Azazel  _really_  wanted to harm her, he wouldn't have simply  _handed_  her a weapon. Still, she wasn't entirely comfortable with his so far casual attitude, and couldn't quite discern what he was really thinking.

"This is a  _surprise_ ," Raven turned the gun over in her hand, running her fingers across its smooth handle. It was a gold and white .44 magnum with the words "Plan B" etched in Gothic script on its handle. Azazel was never one for guns, and certainly not for  _fancy guns_  like this one. Raven handed it back with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. Azazel slipped the gun back into his belt, looking almost sheepish.

"It's... _Clarice_ ," he admitted begrudgingly. "It's just a silly gift. She has a matching one, and she gave this to me after she saved my life once by shooting someone. We never go on a mission without them, like good luck charms."

"Just like old times,  _huh_?" Raven nodded to the duffle bag next to her. It had been seventeen years since they were side-by-side, geared-up for a mission.

"Yeah,  _right_ ," Azazel snickered. "Just like old times except now I need reading glasses and my back hurts for no reason."

Raven smirked at his comment before turning back to look at the graves. They sat side-by-side in silence as the sun deepened the shadows in the surrounding trees.

"Do you remember our wedding night?" Azazel asked quietly after some time had passed. Raven didn't respond immediately. Instead, she shifted her position so she leaning on one arm and facing him. Azazel now sat cross legged, his hands on his knees and his tail lazily sweeping the grass behind him. He watched her patiently, with the look of someone who already knew the answer before they asked. "Do you remember how we stayed up all night drinking that good Spanish wine Janos gave us, and we just talked?"

Raven smiled softly, nodding. Their wedding had been an small, impromptu affair - they never really kept a wide circle of friends - but Azazel surprised Raven by bringing Angel and Janos in from Spain, and - although not in attendance - Emma Frost surprised them all by arranging for the Hellfire Club to pay for an entire night at  _The Zaytsevr_. After closing hours, the newlyweds brought the party back to their safe house. Eventually, all their friends eventually passed out in various places around the apartment, and Azazel and Raven sneaked away to the balcony where they stayed up all night smoking cigarettes, drinking wine, and laughing until the dawn forced them inside.

"I wonder," Azazel asked politely, snapping Raven out of reminiscing, "if you recall that I told you a story that night?"

"The story about  _love_ ," Raven answered immediately. "The only story you remember your mother telling you."

"You  _remember_ ," he said, a slow smile growing on his face. "You know my father died before I was born, and I do not remember much from my childhood, before the soldiers came. What little I do remember, I always see mountains and blue skies and I can hear goats. I remember it was just my mother and I and no one else living for kilometers around." He paused, seeming to collect his thoughts. "I cannot remember my mother's face or her voice, but I do remember that she told me once I looked very much like my father. I know that she gave up everything for him, and that he told her the story of love, and she told it to me, so I when I was older, I would understand that love is something worth fighting for."

Raven bit her lip, staring at Azazel in the growing darkness. In all the years she had known him, this was the most he had ever spoken at length about his childhood. Even after twenty-one years, it seemed Azazel still had the ability to surprise her.

"Do you remember how the story goes?" He asked in trepidation, almost as if he was afraid she had forgotten.

"There was a time once, long ago," Raven took a deep breath, pulling the words from distant memory. For a second, she could almost see Azazel twenty years younger, slightly drunk and grinning like a fool when he sat across from her on the balcony, first telling her the story she now recited. "A time when when people first came into being. They grew out of the soil of the Earth, and they grew in pairs, fused together as one being, back to back. These first people had two sets of everything: arms, legs, and heads, but they shared one heart, and they were... _happy_."

Her voice faltered on the word  _happy_. Raven remembered being so very  _happy_  that night, laughing and giddily talking for hours with her  _husband._ Never in all her life had Raven dared to dream that the word husband would be for her, that anyone would take her as she was, blue scales and all. They had been a promise to each other of all the things denied to mutants like them. That night, they were young and reckless and in love, with their entire lives ahead of them.

"But after a time," Azazel said, picking up where she stopped, "the Gods looked down on the Earth from the Heavens and they became angry, because the people were so happy together that they did not need to worship the Gods. So the Gods struck the people down, splitting them in half and chasing the broken halves across the ends of the Earth, until they were lost."

"And we spend our entire lives trying to find our missing half," Raven whispered, a tear now slipping down her cheek.

"And when we make love," Raven could see that his eyes were shining too, "that's how we put our hearts back together."

"All of this is  _my_  fault," Raven took a shuddering sob, wiping her eyes.

"It's not all  _your_  fault," Azazel took her hand.

"I abandoned everyone I've ever loved: Charles, Erik, you, Kurt..." Raven whimpered.

"You came back for  _Kurt_ ," Azazel squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"I should have come back for  _you_ ," she grabbed his hand in both of hers.

" _No_ ," Azazel put his free hand on the side of Raven's face, stroking the tears off her cheek with this thumb. " _I_  should  _never_  have let you go. Raven, there hasn't been  _one_  day - not  _one_  - since the moment I lost you that were not on my mind the second I woke up and the last thought I had before I slept. I told you on our wedding night that I finally found my  _missing half_ , my  _heart_ , and that I would follow you  _anywhere_. So here I am," Azazel smiled, tears now marring his face as well. "It took me seventeen years to realize that I should have followed you the first time. I regret I cannot take that time back."

"You followed me the second time," Raven sniffled, placing her hand over his against her face. Azazel took a big risk coming to Westchester. Much of it to see his son, but Raven was starting to realize, to see  _her_  as well.

"I cannot lose you again," Azazel shook his head, "I will not survive it."

"I want us to be a family again," she whispered. She hadn't dared to dream this, not after  _everything_.

"I want it too," he eagerly agreed, "you and me, Kurt and Clarice."

"Do you think that's even possible?" Raven laughed in spite of her tears.

"I don't know," he shrugged, sniffling as well. "Nothing in this life is guaranteed; but, I would like to  _try_  it."

"When we go back," she nodded, resolved, "we'll talk to Kurt.  _Together_. We'll tell him the truth, tell him  _everything_."

"Perhaps  _we_  should talk to someone, as well?" Azazel ventured.

"You mean like a  _therapist_?"

"I fear we will drive Charles  _mad_  if we ask him to help mediate our problems."

"We'll figure it out," Raven agreed, "we'll figure out some way to make this  _fucked-up_  family function." She closed her eyes as she began to cry in earnest. She felt Azazel's arms encircle her, pulling her towards him. She leaned against his chest as he stroked hair back, murmuring reassuring words as she wept. In his arms, Raven finally felt able to  _let go_ in a way she hadn't since the day the world split them apart.

After a while, Raven pulled away from Azazel's arms and gazed up at him. He looked at her so happily, his pale eyes shining against the dark. Raven leaned forward and kissed him - not recklessly and passionately like five nights before - but assuredly, reliably,  _lovingly,_ and she felt the same from him in return. Afterwards they simply held each other, their eyes closed and foreheads touching, speaking volumes without breathing a word.

_...RAV...EN...!...HEL...P...!_

Raven snapped back suddenly, crying out as she grabbed both sides of her head. Images tore through her mind in rapid succession, breaking apart like static...

_...the inside of Cerebro..._

_...Erik in full regalia, standing beside by four mutants she'd didn't know..._

_...Hank and Moira, screaming..._

_...Charles, bloody-nosed, struggling to maintain consciousness..._

_...Alex lighting up..._

_...HELP US...!_

" _Charles?!_ " Raven screamed as her brother's voice screamed in her mind and an image of fire erupted, burning brightly and dissolving everything in its path.

"Raven _...?!_ " Azazel grabbed her shoulders, alarmed.

"Oh _God!_ " Raven seized his shirt, looking fearful as panic unhinged her voice. " _We have to go back now!_ "


	30. Betrayed

_**The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, New York  
** _

" _Annndddd...now! Shift!_ " Kurt jumped at Scott's command, punching the clutch and thrusting the gear knob in tandem. The car jerked - but only  _slightly_  this time - before returning to a smooth hum. He glanced quickly to his friend for approval. Scott smiled proudly, punching Kurt's shoulder lightly in congratulations. A wide grin broke out on Kurt's face as he turned his eyes back to the road.

"Nice job, Crawler!" Jean beamed from the backseat.

"You're a natural!" Wanda added, echoing her praise.

Kurt stole a glimpse in the rear view mirror. Both girls were laughing, their red hair curling like fire in the wind as the convertible sped along the private road. They were only traveling about 55 kph (or 35 mph, Kurt guessed in  _American_ ), but to Kurt - high on adrenaline and sheer excitement - they might as well be  _flying_. Since Uncle Professor owned the many acres surrounding the school, the teens didn't really need to worry about other drivers or traffic, but Kurt didn't want to press his luck by going faster; after all, it was only his first time  _driving_.

The previous afternoon, Kurt asked Scott if he could teach him how to drive. As a teleporter, Kurt didn't really need to know how to operate a car, but it seemed like all of his friends already knew how to drive, and Kurt had started to believe that getting one's drivers license was an important rite of passage for American teens. He was eager to experience all he could of his host culture, even more so since he recently discovered he was  _half-American_  on his mother's side, if one could even be such a thing (Kurt also supposed he was half-Russian, although Clarice told him that Azazel was also at least part-Chechen; Kurt wasn't entirely sure how his German fit in anymore, but at least he could still count on being blue, having a tail, and of course, the  _fangs_ ). Even Peter had his drivers license, although according to Wanda, the speedster drove "slower than a grandma on a Sunday afternoon," whatever that meant. Sometimes Kurt just smiled and nodded when his friends uttered these strange American colloquialisms; sometimes he just smiled and nodded because it was  _Wanda_  who was saying them, and he was still so starstruck by her grace and beauty and the fact that she actually  _liked_  him that at times smiling and nodding was all he could do around her.

The two had been dating for about a  _whole week_  now, give or take (although, Kurt could count down to the very  _second_  Wanda asked him out, if anyone actually wanted to know). Their first date was really great despite The Danger Room disaster earlier that day; the four teens ending-up going to coffee shop for a  _Trivia Night,_  even finishing in second place without using Jean's telepathy _._ The most fun part of their date, however, was when they got back to the school, but only because Kurt got to kiss Wanda again when saying goodnight. Since then, the couple had sneaked in a few more moments of "alone time" (an American colloquialism that Kurt  _really_  liked). Both teens were rather inexperienced when it came to dating, so they were taking everything respectfully slowly (although Kurt was really digging this new reality of kissing and holding hands).

Even Peter warm-up to the idea of Kurt dating Wanda, although the indigo teen knew that it took a good nudge from Clarice. The morning after their first date, Peter cornered Kurt in the cafeteria and gave him a stern, sit-down talk he called "Rules for Dating My Sister." A lot of Peter's rules were rather complicated and seemed to contradict one another, and Kurt felt like he should have taken notes until Clarice thankfully intervened. Rolling her eyes, she interrupted Peter's lecture by leaning over, kissing him lightly on the cheek, and telling Peter "...just teach Wanda Red-Light, Green-Light," whatever  _that_  meant. But, after that Peter seemed to relax, and a few days later they were back on chummy terms (although the silver-haired youth still kept on eye on the couple when they hung out as a group).

Secretly, Kurt was  _thrilled_  that Clarice was finally giving Peter a chance. Just yesterday he and Clarice hung out in her room, eating  _bánh mì_  and chatting about their respective relationships. They even joked that if each couple got married, Kurt and Clarice would be Aunt/Nephew as well as Brother/Sister-In-Law, as if their unorthodox family wasn't already confusing enough.

He was immensely enjoying knowing Clarice as his aunt, and through her, seeing a more intimate side to his father. Clarice was full of funny stories and touching memories, and Kurt especially liked when Clarice pointed out similarities the two mutants shared. Learning both he and Azazel had the same way of tilting their heads when considering a question, or had the same lopsided smile when snickering, and of course, how their tails moved sometimes beyond their control made Kurt feel like he finally belonged to something greater than himself; his mutation and quirks didn't make him feel so  _alone_  anymore.

Kurt had also discussed Raven with Uncle Professor, but the telepath was much more reserved when it came to his mother than Clarice was regarding Azazel. Kurt didn't feel Uncle Professor was hiding anything; rather, he got the impression that Raven and her brother shared a rather difficult history, whereas Clarice had always gotten along well with Azazel. While kind and insightful, Uncle Professor was vehement that Kurt needed to learn about his parents from them directly. Even Clarice pushed this point when Kurt asked questions about Azazel that she was hesitant to discuss.

For the last week, he had also been mulling over The Danger Room events. While he still desperately craved answers for Azazel's actions, part of Kurt was started to feel guilty for calling him a  _monster_. Certainly Azazel's actions in that particular memory were monstrous, but the more Kurt learned about Azazel and Raven and the turbulent state of mutant affairs in 1960s, the more he was coming to realize it had been a rather complicated time for the two very complicated individuals.

More than anything, Kurt wanted simply to sit down and talk to his parents. In spite of finally knowing who they were, their history, their motivations, and how he came to be raised outside of their care remained a vexing mystery.

But - for the present moment, at least - these thoughts were far behind him. Kurt smiled as he drove carefree along the winding road. When it came to driving, Wanda was right; he was a  _natural_ , mainly because his tail could control the gear knob, allowing him to keep both hands on the wheel at all times. Kurt really liked driving, and he felt so...

" _Ahhh!_ " Jean yelped suddenly. Her outburst jarred Kurt, causing him to swerve slightly. Scott quickly put a hand on Kurt's arm to steady his driving.

"Jean? What's  _wrong?_ " Scott turned towards her, frowning in concern. Kurt glanced in the rear view mirror again. He watched Jean look up, her periwinkle eyes shimmering in confusion.

" _Professor_...?" She whispered, biting her lip. She shook her head before focusing on Scott. "It's the Professor..." Jean started, biting her lip. "He's  _talking_  to me but I can't...I can't  _understand_  what he's saying. It's like there's static, or... _ahhh!_ " She cried out again, louder.

"Guys, something's really _wrong_ ," Wanda put her arm around Jean. The young telepath now held her head in both hands, mumbling as she rocked back and forth. Kurt turned his eyes back to the road. His hands were trembling now, and it was getting hard to concentrate.

"Maybe we should..."

" _Oh God!_ " Jean screamed, causing Kurt to punch the clutch in alarm. The car sputtered twice and jerked violently before screeching to a halt in the middle of the road. Kurt was slammed back hard into his seat, but thankfully, everyone had been wearing their seat belts. As soon as the vehicle stopped, Scott unlatched his belt and jumped out, moving swiftly towards Jean. Wanda looked at Kurt, clearly frightened by their friend's behavior.

" _We have to go back!_ " Jean shrieked, her voice reaching a fever pitch. She grabbed the lapels of Scott's jacket madly. " _We have to go back right...!_ "

Suddenly, a tremendous explosion drowned the last of her words.

* * *

"Do you..." Clarice's emerald eyes sparkled mischievously as she playfully drew out her words. "...have any  _3's_?"

"Go... _FISH!_ " The little boy giggled, sticking his tongue out triumphantly. It was dark blue and forked like a reptile's, but his laugh was infectious. Clarice giggled as she drew a card from the communal pile.

As the next player studied his cards, Clarice glanced over her shoulder. Not far away, Peter was on the floor helping Rahne tie a ribbon in Luna's hair as the little girl sat perched on his lap. Clarice smiled as she watched Peter, noting the the messy braid twisting his own silver hair. One of the things she liked most about the speedster was his genuine interest in playing with  _all_  of the children, even if that sometimes that meant playing dress-up or helping with make-overs. Just few days before when they secretly sneaked into the school's pool for a midnight swim, Peter unlaced his trademark sneakers only to reveal bubblegum pink toenails. When Clarice pointed and laughed, he merely shrugged, admitting with a shy smile that at least he talked Rahne out of giving him a matching manicure.

The last week had certainly been a roller-coaster; between getting to know Kurt as her nephew, dating Peter, and fretting over Azazel, Clarice had lived a myriad of emotions. The Asian girl had always found Kurt  _delightful_ , but somehow, the indigo teen even _more adorable_  now that their family relationship had been acknowledged (between them and the Professor, anyways). Kurt was bubbling with questions and he could sit for hours listening to her. Clarice was careful with what she shared, however; she made sure to omit details about her and Azazel's line of work and she certainly skirted around most of Azazel's private history. Instead, Clarice shared only certain memories, telling Kurt stories sure to make him smile and laugh. Sometimes, when they shared a moment laughing together, it felt so good to have family again that she felt her heart would burst.

Things were going very well with Peter. While they were still taking the physical side of their relationship slow, Clarice found that most nights she ended-up staying in Peter's room. There was a comfort in laying next to him that she hadn't expected, and an easiness in their interactions that she craved. Peter took her all faults and hesitations in stride, and Clarice found that she needed their Red-Light, Green-Light game less and less each passing day. Peter made her feel  _normal_ , like she belonged in this world, and she found herself laughing more easily and smiling more frequently than she ever did outside of Azazel's company.

 _Speaking of Big Brother_...Clarice pursed her lips, looking back at her cards as her thoughts drifted from Peter to Azazel. Of late, worry was creeping heavily into her thoughts. From the little Professor gleaned from Raven a few days earlier, his sister was on the run  _without_  Azazel, making both the Professor and Clarice frown. Try as he might, the Professor was unable to reach Azazel with Cerebro, although he assured Clarice that this wasn't unusual for some mutants, and psionic teleporters were difficult to contact under the best circumstances. Regardless, she was starting to worry, and began to considering going to look for him. Even with The Danger Room fiasco, Clarice felt that Azazel should have returned at least once to check in over the past week. Something felt wrong.

Earlier that morning, Clarice told Peter her plans to go back East for a few weeks to sort things out. He surprising her by immediately pledging to join her and help. She smiled as she gave him a firm  _nyet_ , knowing full-well that Peter and his brash Americanism would go unnoticed for exactly _ten seconds_ in the U.S.S.R., and probably get him killed and land her in deep shit. Certainly the speedster was fast, but  _blending in_  wasn't really one of his strong skills, and Americans were still seen as enemies where she was going.

 _Still_ , Clarice mused _, if the circumstances were different, it would have been fun to..._

Suddenly, Peter leaped to his feet, clamping both hands over his ears as hearing a loud noise. His unexpected movement caused Rahne to bristle and snarl in alarm, while Luna slipped off his lap, landing lightly on the floor. Clarice dropping her cards and rushed over to Luna as the little girl began to cry, more from fright than harm.

" _Peter_...?" Clarice cradled Luna as she looked up at Peter, confused and a touch alarmed herself. He was always so careful around the little ones; for him to move so quickly and frighten them was completely out of his character.

" _Professor_...?" Peter questioned out loud, his voice confused. He looked down Clarice's for a second before he gasped, his silver eyes widening in fear. She saw him instinctively reach for his goggles, pulling them down as if getting ready to run.

"What is it...?" It was as far as Clarice got before the kindergarten classroom burst into flames.

* * *

Charles bared his teeth like an animal, breathing as hard as his heart pounded in his chest. Alex stood off to his left, his fists clenched and his shirt torn and scorched. Hank and Moria stood at his right, shaken but unharmed. Behind them, Cerebro lay in ruins, its choking smoke burning Charles's senses; before them stood someone Charles did not expect: the nefarious En Sabah Nur. Moira recognized the aberrant mutant at once, speaking his name in a fearfully hushed tone as her hand darted to her mouth. Charles stared hard at Nur, rage numbing his body. For a brief moment, this man had invaded his mind, using Charles as a tool to force countless missiles into be launched into the sky. Suddenly in his presence, Charles felt vulnerable and exposed.

They had materialized in a blinding haze, and the arrivals were a sight to behold. Nur stood in the center of his lackey group, protected on all sides by mutants who utterly  _radiated_  power. On his right Charles saw a fierce woman with sleek, wine colored hair, holding both a metal and a psionic sword at the ready; on his other side was was young mohawked girl with orb-white eyes, lighting bolts dancing around from her fingers, and not much older than the students Charles nurtured each day. Behind the girl stood a menacing angel, his metal wings flexed in a dominant display of strength. And on the other side of angel stood...

_Erik?_

Charles spoke his friend's name with the disbelieving reverence one would speak an ex-lover's. Erik Lehnsherr stood at attention, clothed in regalia Charles remembered from the dramatic last day he laid eyes on his friend. But the man who stood here wasn't the Erik that Charles knew; this wasn't the man who wept at memories of reciting holiday prayers with his mother, who playfully gloated when he beat Charles in chess, or who could pulled a submarine out of the sea. No, the man who stood before him was a  _stranger_ , with a hardened rage of loss etched in his features that Charles couldn't begin to fathom.

 _Any yet_...Charles's mind briefly drifted to Moria standing behind him, her hand trembling as she clutched the handle of his chair like an anchor. To a degree, Charles  _could_  understand the loss of someone he loved dearly, the loss of child and a future that he denied himself so he could protect their kind. It wasn't the same degree of loss as Erik's, but the pain was real for Charles, too.

 _Erik?_  Charles reached out cautiously, gently touching his friend's mind. The telepath froze everyone surrounding them, although he knew he was too weak to maintain the freeze for long. The stranger fixed his gaze on Charles, tiling his head slightly. Suddenly, a faint glimmer of recognition shone in his eyes.

_Charles?_

_Erik,_ Charles projected.  _I am so sorry. I feel your pain, and your loss._

 _You think just because you can see inside my head_ , Erik's voice resonated angrily,  _that you know how it feels?_

 _What happened to them was wrong,_ he reasoned.  _It was terribly wrong, but we can help you. Come back to us, Erik. Come back. I can help..._

 _You, help me?_ He seethed, and Charles could almost hear the bitter laugh in his answer.  _I tried it your way Charles. I tried peace, and peace led to death. You cannot help me now, but they can. They can help me make the humans pay for what they did...  
_

 _Think of your wife and daughter!_ The telepath tried desperately. He could feel the others slipping out of his control; in a moment, all would be lost.  _Think of your family! What would they have wanted?_

 _They would have wanted to live!_ Erik's rage was deafening. Charles gasped, wincing from the force of Erik's words. _  
_

"How... _extraordinary_..." Now free of Charles' control, Nur stepped forward, holding up one hand as his eyes glowed brightly. Behind him, Hank growled low in his throat, and Alex tensed for combat. Then, the telepath felt a warmth envelop him, seeping through his skin into his blood and down to the very fiber of his being. It was the same surge he felt moments before in Cerebro, but this time, he felt as if he was connected to every living creature in the world. Charles had never felt power like this before; it was downright  _intoxicating_. A terrifying smile grew on his face as he flexed his fingers, reveling in his own amplified mutation simply by being in Nur's presence.

 _All I ask of you, my child_ , the blue mutant smiled wickedly and stepped closer, now extending his hand as if an invitation,  _is to submit to your God._

The telepath fought the urge to extend his own own and take Nur's. It would be easy -  _so very easy_  - to give himself over to this new master, to feel this power for all time...

Charles clenched his teeth, summoning every ounce of strength he could muster. Suddenly, he unleashed a wave of pure rage at the blue mutant, forcing Nur to scowl and quickly retreat. Charles knew he could only maintain a mental assault of this magnitude for a few seconds; he already felt the hot sting of blood dripping from his nose, and he was beginning to see black spots dancing before him. Through blurred vision, he saw the angel wrap his metallic wings protectively around Nur, forming a shield as Erik lifted his hands, focusing on Charles. The metal of his wheelchair rattled violently and Moira screamed. Alex charged, his chest beginning to glow as Charles felt himself ripped away, hurdling through the air as his surrounding began to fade.

With his last vestiges of strength, Charles reached out to those he needed the most...

_...Hank...protect..._

_...Raven...help..._

_...Jean...lead...  
_

_...Peter...run...  
_

...

...

...before the darkness consumed him.


	31. Gone

Later, when Azazel had time to reflect on it, he would come to wonder what exactly made him appear on the practice fields  _outside_  the school instead of directly in the building itself. Had he and Raven appeared in his room or the school's lobby - as were his usual methods of entry - the two mutants would have missed Peter's flight and have been killed almost instantly in the ensuing explosion.

His son would argue that it was  _divine intervention_ , but Azazel would eventually admit that - as Little Sister often accused him of - it was really just sheer  _dumb luck_.

All the red mutant knew right now was that one second he and Raven were alone, standing in a grassy field facing the school; the next, they were  _surrounded_  by a crowd of students and faculty, each of whom looked just as confused as Azazel suddenly felt. He turned to Raven and opened his mouth but before he could speak, he was violently knocked off his feet by wave of heat riding the crest of a deafening roar.

Then,  _silence_.

* * *

" _Move it!_ " Kurt vanished as Scott yanked the driver's side door open. Instantly, the indigo teen appeared in the passenger's seat. Wanda reached forward and put her hand on his shoulder. Kurt turned around as he laid his hand over hers, squeezing it gently. He caught her eye and smiled nervously, trying to give his best " _don't worry, it'll be alright_ " look. Judging by the fear reflected in her eyes, he'd failed miserably. Next to Wanda, Jean was still clutching her head, but at least she'd ceased her incoherent mumbling.

"Why can't I just  _teleport_  everyone back?" Kurt whined as Scott turned the key. The car sputtered twice before dying, making Scott swear under his breath. Kurt continued to look imploringly at his friend. "I can teleport with three people. I've done it before!"

"I know Kurt; I was there,  _remember?_ " The ignition finally caught and Scott glanced over his shoulder as he quickly reversed the car. Kurt buckled his seat belt, happy at least that Scott was driving. He was far too edgy after Jean's outburst and the mysterious explosion to drive responsibly just then.  _But driving back will take_ ten whole minutes _at least_ , Kurt grumped to himself,  _while I can get everyone to the school in seconds!_

"Scott,  _why_  can't I...?"

" _Kurt_ , we don't know  _what_  happened back there," Scott huffed in frustration, pulling onto the road. "I want to know what's up as much as you do, but what if you teleport us into the middle of a  _fire_ , or some kind of an  _attack_? We need to be  _cautious_. Driving up to the school is slower, so it'll let us  _assess_  the situation as we approach. If things look  _iffy_ , you can teleport us to somewhere safe. Besides," he shifted gears smoothly, gaining speed, "we can't just leave the car in the middle of the road. What if emergency vehicles need to get through?"

 _Emergency vehicles?_  Kurt slumped in his seat, gazing down at his hands. He hadn't even  _thought_  about that. He was still in so much shock from the odd events that just transpired that he hadn't stopped to consider that people might have gotten  _hurt_  in whatever that explosion was.  _People like Jubilee or Uncle Professor or Clarice..._ Kurt swallowed hard as the thought hit him like a sucker punch to his gut. He glanced at Wanda again, only this time, he wasn't surprised to see tears pooling in her eyes.  _She's probably thinking the same thoughts about her brother_ , he reasoned.

"He's so  _fast_ Wanda," Kurt said, trying again to smile reassuringly. "If anyone can out-run danger, it's definitely Peter." Wanda nodded as she sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She then turned away, watching the trees as they blurred past.

"I  _can't_..." Jean whispered, looking up at Kurt with frightened eyes. "I can't _reach_ the Professor anymore."

Kurt frowned and looked at Scott, but the teen said nothing. He punched the accelerator again, his face set in a grim determination as they raced back.

* * *

Azazel winced slightly as he opened his eyes. They stung from the intense heat that hung thick in air, and the world smelled scorched and burning. There was a tremendous ringing in his ears, dulling the moans and cries around him. He sat up, dazed and rubbing his forehead. He frowned when he saw his sleeve; the black fabric was intact, but badly singed in several places.

Next to him, Raven coughed violently as she lay crumpled on her side. He reached for her quickly and she took his arm, using it to pull herself into a seated position as well. After a quick assessment, it seemed that thankfully, they were both uninjured. Her false blue eyes met his for a second before drifting over his shoulder and growing wide in shock.

" _Zaz_...?" She whispered, pointing with a trembling hand behind him. He turned to look, and...

The X _avier School_  was... _gone?_

Azazel blinked hard, shaking his head, his mind unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Only smoke and ruin marked where the majestic building once stood.

 _...Kurt?_ Cold panic welled in his chest as Azazel scrambled to his feet.  _Where is Kurt?_  He felt disoriented, and all around him the students and teachers were trying to get up. His eyes darted about wildly, but nowhere did he spot his son's tell-tale indigo skin.

" _Azazel?_ " His attention snapped to his right and he saw Clarice not far away, holding a young girl in her arms. Other small children crowded around her, frightened and crying. The Maximoff kid was there as well, doubled over with his hands on his knees, gulping for breath.

"I  _think_...I  _got_...that  _was_... _everyone_ ," the speedster panted heavily as he stood up. He put one fist in the air as if celebrating, but his face was flush from exertion and he was covered in a slick sheen of sweat. "Clarebear...are you... _Ok_?" As he spoke, the speedster lightly stroked Clarice's shoulder. She nodded and motioned for him to take the little girl from her arms. She then ran to Azazel, throwing her arms around his neck as soon as she could.

"Big Brother, I thought..." Azazel could feel her entire body shaking as she hugged him. "...I didn't know where you  _were_."

"I'm here now," Azazel said in Russian, hugging her back reassuringly. In spite of the chaotic reunion, it hadn't escaped Azazel's notice that Clarice gave no protest when the Maximoff kid  _touched_  her. That was certainly a new development, one he wasn't sure how he felt about.  _But,_ Azazel thought, _there's time for that discussion later. Right now..._

" _Where is Kurt?_ " Azazel demanded, trying to quell the panic in his voice. Clarice took a step back and gazed up at him, her face etched with worry.

"I don't  _know_ ," she answered in their common tongue. "But I don't think he was in the school. Earlier, he said something about going out friends, or driving a car, or something to that effect. I can't remember..."

"What do you mean, you  _can't_ remember?" Azazel pleaded, grabbing her shoulders and squeezing hard. " _What_  exactly did Kurt say...?"

"Are you asking about Kurt?" Peter interrupted. Azazel glanced over, raising an eyebrow at the speedster. The little girl in his arms had calmed down, her head pressed against the boy's shoulder as she sucked her thumb. Clarice wretched herself out of Azazel's grip, giving him a sharp look. "Sorry, I didn't mean to butt in," the boy shrugged, "but I heard you say ' _Kurt_ ,' so I figured...'"

"You know where is he?" Azazel commanded, switching to English.

"He wasn't in the school," Peter offered. "He's out with my sister and some of their friends. They took one of the cars; I think Scott was teaching him how to drive, something like that. Don't worry dude," Peter smiled proudly, shifting the little girl to his hip. "I'm pretty sure I got  _everyone_  out."

Azazel sighed in relief and turned back to ask Clarice what actually happened, but she was no longer looking at him. Her wide eyes were fixed on a spot just behind him, her hands now pressed to her mouth in shock. Azazel turned, following her gaze.

Behind him, _Mystique The Hero_  stood in full her blue glory, breathing hard as she surveyed the ruins of her childhood home.

* * *

Raven glanced around timidly, unnerved by the immediate, unexpected attention. All around her, students gaped at her, the shock neon on their faces.  _At least Kurt is alright_ , Raven reassured herself. Like Azazel, her first instinct upon standing was to look for their son and make sure he was safe. She'd overhead Peter speaking to Azazel, relieved beyond words that Kurt was away at the time of the explosion. Not far from her, she saw Hank helping a student with a minor injury, and even the injured student stared at her in disbelief. She caught Hank's eye and he frowned awkwardly, motioning for her to  _look down_. Raven furrowed her brow and looked at her hands, gasping in surprise.

They were... _bright blue!_

Raven didn't even  _realize_  she was blue. Seconds before she and Azazel teleported to the school from Poland, she had flipped her scales into her familiar blonde skin almost reflexively. The shock of seeing the destroyed school must have made her lose control, and...

"It's...it's  _you!_ "

Raven looked up from her hands, inhaling sharply when she saw Clarice opening staring at her. The girl was standing next to Azazel, her emerald eyes wise with recognition. Her statement was a whisper, but it might as well have been a rally cry to the young people all around her. Suddenly, Raven heard dozens of murmurs - " _The Hero!" "It's her!" "Mystique is here!"_  - each student gazing at her in awe, as if she was a saint or some mythical creature.

"It's really  _you_ ," Clarice repeated, now moving towards her. Azazel gently grabbed her arm but Clarice brushed him away, approaching Raven quickly.

"I'm  _nobody_ ," the blue woman took a hasty step back, shaking her head as if to deny Clarice's words. Given their history, of Raven's abandonment of both Clarice and Azazel, she had  _no idea_  how the girl would react upon reaching her. Not knowing what else to do, Raven quickly shifted back into her blonde face, causing a number of gasps from her unexpected audience, and then...

Clarice was on her, hugging her so fiercely Raven almost couldn't breathe.

"You  _saved_  me," Clarice whispered as she squeezed Raven. The blue mutant was dumbfounded, unable to even return her hug for shock. She opened her mouth, but didn't know how to respond. "It was  _you_. I remember you arguing with Azazel that you wanted to take me with, and then you came and took my hand, and then..." Clarice stepped back, looking at Raven reverently as she wiped away a stray tear. "I just...I never got to  _thank you_."

"You're... _welcome_ ," Raven finally replied, almost embarrassed by Clarice's admission. She looked over the girl's shoulder at Azazel. He gave her a small smile.

"They look up to you," Hank offered, motioning to the surrounding students.

"They shouldn't," Raven still felt exposed. In all her years of rescuing mutants, she had never been  _thanked_ by one. Honestly, she'd never expected it. The younger mutants were usually so exhausted and frightened from their endured abuse that they went with her without protest. As soon as she secured safe passage through Caliban, Raven would melt into a new disguise, leaving without saying goodbye. She wasn't a  _hero_ ; she didn't rescue mutants because she wanted the thanks or recognition or fame. She saved them because it was the right thing to do.  _Because it's what Charles would have done_ , she thought, a lump forming in her throat.  _It's what I've watched him do every day at this school since I arrived._

"Charles," a voice full of sadness suddenly interrupted Raven's thoughts. "They  _took_  Charles."

* * *

In all the confusion, Azazel failed to see  _Moira MacTaggert_  standing a few feet away, her arms tightly crossed as she addressed Raven. When he realized who it was, he jumped back, nearly tripping on his own tail. He recovered, putting his hand reflexively on the hilt of his sword.

"Oh  _please_ ," Moira rolled her eyes. She then held up  _Plan B,_ shaking the gun. Azazel's eyes widened and his hand quickly groped his belt. Sure enough, his gun was missing. Moira then held it out for him to take. "You lost this when you were knocked down, and really? If I was going to shoot you, I had plenty of time to do it already, so  _relax_." Azazel snatched it back, tucking it into its holster. His face burned with embarrassment as she looked rather smug. Once again, Azazel was  _glad_  for his skin tone.

"What happened?" Raven demanded, ignoring their quarrel as she address the agent directly. "Charles contacted me and I saw a little of it, just before he..." Raven's voice faded. Moira quickly recounted the events in Cerebro leading up to Peter's evacuation of the school. Azazel listed carefully, watching the expression on Raven's face grow more grim.

"You're  _sure_  it was -  _Erik Lensherr? Magneto? -_ with them?" There was a disbelief in Raven's stuttered question, and from the corner of his eye, Azazel saw the Maximoff kid perk-up at the mention of his estranged father.  _Peter_ , the red mutant corrected himself. After saving all the students and teachers - and especially, saving  _Clarice_  - the kid at least deserved to be addressed by his proper name.

"Yes I'm sure," Moira confirmed. "I didn't recognize any of the others with En Sabah Nur, but I knew Lensherr when I saw him."

"So, what do  _we_  do now?" Peter asked as he stepped forward, his arms crossed. Azazel raised an eyebrow at his stress on the word ' _we_.' He had handed the little girl to caretaker before inserting himself in the discussion. Clarice stood next to the speedster, her hand on his shoulder. Azazel frowned slightly, not sure he liked that, either.

"We get Charles back, that's what," Raven said defiantly. "And, see if we can't talk some sense into Erik."

"I've been studying Moira's research this past week," Hank cleared his throat, gaining the group's attention. "I think I have an idea of where they might have gone." All eyes alighted to the scientist as he explained his theory.

* * *

"Scott,  _wait!_ " Kurt yelled. Scott ignored him, throwing open the car door and running towards the rubble faster than Kurt could unlatch his belt. When he finally wrestled himself free, Scott and Jean were halfway across the field, racing towards the smoking ground where their school once stood.  _So much for being cautious_ , Kurt frowned. He disappeared from inside the car and reappeared next to Wanda, holding out his hand.

"You ready?" Wanda nodded and seconds later, they appeared on the field about five yards in front of Scott and Jean.

"Is this...?" Wanda dropped Kurt's hand, her mouth hanging wide in shock. "Oh  _God_ , is this the  _school?!_ "

"Where is everyone?" Kurt swallowed, looking around in disbelief. The wreckage was staggering. _If someone was inside when this happened..._

" _Look!_  Over  _there!_ " Scott pointed in the distance. Kurt narrowed his eyes; he could just make out a crowd of people on the practice fields on the opposite side of the building's husk. He felt relief wash over him as he realized that must be the students and teachers.

"Jean, can you tell if Peter's there?" Wanda asked frantically. Jean put her fingers to her temple in concentration.

"I can't tell," Jean winched, taking her hand away. "There are too many minds, and their thoughts are so chaotic. I'm not great at seeking out individuals yet, not like the Professor. Sorry."

"Kurt, can you take us there?" Scott turned to his friend.

" _Ja,_ surely!" Kurt nodded vigorously, happy to finally be of help. He slipped his arm around Wanda's waist as Jean grabbed his hand and Scott held on to his shoulder. Kurt still had trouble teleporting people not touching him directly, unlike Azazel, who could jump entire groups even if only one person was touching him. One day, Kurt hoped to be that good at teleporting.

"Is everyone ready?"

In a heartbeat, they were gone.

* * *

"What's that noise?" Peter shielded his eyes, looking up at the sky. Azazel could hear a faint humming, seeming to come from somewhere distant. He tilted his head, listening.  _The humming sounds like..._

" _Helicopters?_ " Dr. McCoy shouted, pointing at the horizon. A group of low-flying helicopters slowly came into view. From their markings alone, it was clear they were not civilian or medevac; these were military machines. Clarice caught Azazel's eye and the two exchanged worried looks. The American military showing up was the last thing the two KGB operatives needed.

"Thank god!" Moira started waving at the sky. "Here! Over here!"

"Are you  _crazy?_ " Raven demanded, grabbing Moira's arm. "What do you think you're  _doing?!_ "

"I'm  _CIA_ , remember?" Moira retorted, yanking her arm away. "The government knows I'm at the  _Xavier School._  They must be coming to help." Moira started waving again, and the lead helicopter altered its course slightly, now moving directly towards the group.

"But how would they have known we needed  _help?_ " Dr. McCoy questioned, his voice thick with suspicion. "The explosion just happened, and the school is too secluded for anyone to have heard it."

"Something doesn't feel right," Raven agreed, watching the machines approach. Even Azazel had to agree with the scientist on this one (not that he was going admit that out loud). Suddenly, Moira stopped waving and turned around, looking at Azazel with an unreadable expression.

"You have to leave,  _now_." She stated firmly. Then, she pointed at Clarice. "You have to leave, and you have to take her with you."

"I will  _nyet_..." Azazel bristled at her command, feeling rather affronted that she  _dared_  make demands on him. Next to Azazel, Peter took Clarice's hands, looking mildly alarmed at Moira.

"Listen to me," Moira dropped her voice and took a few steps closer to him. Azazel put his hand on his sword but did not fully draw it.  _Yet_. "You have to get out of here before they see you. Those men will not arrest you or your little accomplice. They'll  _kill_  you both of you on sight once they realize you're KGB." Azazel stared hard at her, wondering what her angle was.

"I'm not playing a  _game_  here, Azazel!" Moira threw out her hands, clearly exasperated. She then placed them on her hips, staring up at him defiantly. "Look, I  _know_  you saved my life a few years back, when the fire broke out during the munitions raid. You could have walked away and let me die, but you didn't. I know you took me outside and dropped me in the snow for my teammates to find. Today is  _payback_. A  _life_  for  _life,_ so trust me on this, Ok?"

"Does anything actually  _scare_  you?" Azazel mused, releasing his sword. He had to admit there was a rare fire in this woman (not that he was going to admit that out loud, either).

"Yeah," Moira smirked, "the thought that if I ever married Charles, apparently you'd be my goddamn  _brother-in-law_."

"So you do have such  _feelings_  for Charles?" Azazel titled his head as he arched his eyebrow. Of course, Moria would know he was wedded to Raven (and now knew Raven was Charles's sister); like Azazel, she did her research and knew her enemies well. Part of him was rather pleased to see Moira's cheeks flush pink at his question.

" _Brother-in-law?_ " Peter echoed, looking Azazel over quizzically. "Wait, you and the Professor are  _brothers_? Wow! Clarice, why didn't you tell me?"

" _What?_ " Clarice looked at Peter like he was crazy.

"Oh yeah, I can totally see it now! It's in the eyes," Peter nodded, pointing to his own eyes. "It's always the eyes, like me and Wanda." Clarice sighed put the palm of her hand over her face, mumbling something that sounded like " _not now, Peter."_

"Zaz, Moira's right," Raven added, ignoring Peter's commentary. "You both have leave before those helicopters land." Azazel nodded, extending a hand for Raven, but the blue mutant shook her head  _no_.

"You are  _nyet_  coming?" Azazel questioned.

"They need me here," Raven motioned to the surrounding students. "I need to stay until I can make sure they're safe. It's what Charles would have done."

"I will find you then, afterwards." He nodded, not entirely happy with Raven's decision, but unable to argue with her reasoning. He turned, offering his hand to Clarice. "Little Sister?"

"Peter?" Clarice asked quietly, biting her lip.

"I can't leave without Wanda," the speedster frowned. "And, someone's gotta help watch the little kiddos until things get sorted. Go with Azazel. I'll find you as soon as I can, I promise."

Clarice nodded, and Peter pulled her hands up to his face, kissing them before letting her go. Clarice was still looking at him as she took Azazel's hand. The helicopters drew nearer; soon an escape would be too late.

Just then, a cloud of blue smoke erupted on the outskirts of the group.

" _Peter!_ " A wave of relief washed over Azazel when he recognized Wanda's voice. In the distance, he could just make out Kurt and his friends. Peter had already ran there and was hugging his sister. Kurt stood with his back to Azazel's group, oblivious to the man's presence. Scott and Jean raced through the crowd towards them, seemingly searching for someone.

"Go!" Raven shooed Azazel. He looked at her and she nodded, as if reading his thoughts. "Don't worry! I'll make sure Kurt's safe. Go now, before it's too late!"

As they vanished, the last thing Azazel heard was Scott's pained voice:

"... _Alex?_ "


	32. The Promise

Clarice felt blissfully weightless for exactly  _one second_  before she began slipping downward with alarming speed. She swore, instinctively throwing her arms wide in an attempt to catch  _anything_  to stop her fall. Suddenly, something coiled tightly around her waist and snapped her backwards. With an audible  _oopf_ , she landed rather ungracefully against a thick trunk, her backside stinging as she scraped the rough bark. She immediately grabbed an overhead branch and flipped her legs into a seated position. Only after she was steady did she chance looking down; her feet now dangled about  _fifteen_   _meters_  above the ground. She released a shaky breath as her heart continued to race. Clarice felt a hand brush her shoulder. She turned quickly to see Azazel near her, also holding onto a branch to keep from falling. She glared at him.

"Next time you plan to drop us atop a  _fucking tree_ , give a little  _warning_ , would you?" She hissed in Russian. She really wasn't in the mood for anymore  _surprises_  that day. She slapped his tail and he removed it from her waist. "I swear to God sometimes, you are  _half-monkey_..."

" _Look,_ " Azazel ignored her protest and motioned with his chin to a small break in the foliage. Clarice continued to glower but turned turned her attention to the opening in the leaves. She could see the first helicopter approaching, now hovering not far from where they had stood. The MacTaggert woman was flagging for the pilot's attention while  _The Hero_  and Dr. McCoy hung back, their arms crossed almost in foil to the agent's eager display. While they were too far away for Clarice to see their faces, their body language read loud and clear: the mutants were highly suspicious of the situation, and for that, Clarice didn't blame them. As strange as it seemed, Azazel's choice of appearing in a treetop was actually proving to be an excellent strategic move: they were concealed and far enough away that the soldiers couldn't see or hear them, but they were close enough to keep watch over their comrades.  _Once again,_  Clarice sighed inwardly, _Big Brother was right._ There would be no arguing with him over their unexpected arrival point now.

She turned her attention back to MacTaggert, shading her eyes to better see. She didn't know a lot about the female agent; Clarice barely interacted with her at the school, and MacTaggert had always more of Azazel's problem than hers. Clarice wasn't accomplished enough to earn the distinction of being a specific CIA target. To become that notorious on the American radar, one needed years of high-profile missions. Clarice also knew that Azazel had gotten tangled-up in some  _bad news_  long ago, working for some guy named Shaw and then running around for a while with a group called the Brotherhood. Apparently, both groups stirred-up a lot of trouble and anti-mutant sentiment for the United States government and pretty much everyone else whose paths they crossed. He never spoke much about those years, and Clarice learned long-ago that certain parts of his life were off-limits topics, just like  _Mystique the Hero_ had been.  _Or, is it Raven now?_  Clarice frowned. She wasn't sure how to refer to the woman anymore.  _But, speaking of..._

"So," Clarice whispered almost casually, looking at Azazel from the corner of her eye. "You never bothered telling me the blonde lady was actually your  _estranged wife_ in disguise _._ That would have been  _nice_ to know,  _comrade_."

Azazel continued to watch the scene from the trees, looking pensive but offering no comment.  _Typical_ , Clarice thought in irritation. He always clammed-up the few times she brought up  _that_  part of his past. She opened her mouth to continue, but this time Azazel interrupted her.

"So," he imitated her same light tone, "you and Mag... _Peter_?"

" _Yeah?"_ Clarice narrowed her eyes, feeling herself bristle. "What  _about_  it?" Azazel had caught himself before saying ' _Magneto_ ,' but Clarice had heard his original intention. He had never hid the fact he didn't like Peter, mainly for the sole,  _stupid_  reason that the speedster was the child of some former comrade he apparently despised. Clarice braced for an argument, but was surprised when instead, Azazel smiled slightly, appearing almost amused.

"Nothing," he answered, looking at her and holding-up one hand. "I was just a little  _surprised_ , is all. You and he seem like an unlikely match, but then again, you always did like to  _irritate_  me."

"You know it's not always about  _you,_ " Clarice razzed , sticking out her tongue, "... _Zaz_." She was relieved that he sounded less hostile this time around, at least.

"That name is for Raven  _only,_ " he snorted before raising his eyebrow,"... _Clarebear_."

"Yeah, I'm  _uh_..." she cleared her throat, turning away and blushing, "I'm working on that one." She wasn't entirely sure how Peter invented that particular nickname, but it still made her cheeks burn whenever he used it publicly. The speedster was rather fond of nicknames, and it seemed like half the students adopted their "X-Men code names" from his unfiltered commentary, whatever that meant.

"Are you happy?" Azazel asked as he turned back to watch the approaching military men.

" _What?_ " Clarice turned her full attention on him, utterly dumbfounded. This day  _really_  wasn't turning out how she expected. Of course, she hadn't exactly expected to be in an explosion, learn the Professor had been kidnapped, or hide in a tree from the American military while having a rather mundane conversation with Azazel, but here she was.

"I asked if you were  _happy_ ," he repeated, sighing. She could tell Azazel wasn't exactly  _happy_ , but she could tell he was  _trying_  - for her benefit, at least - and that spoke volumes. In spite of their current predicament, a small smiled grew on her face.

"Yeah, actually I am," Clarice blushed again before she could stop herself.  _Goddamn it!_ She felt flustered to the point of mild embarrassment. She'd never been in this position before: talking about a guy she  _liked_ with Big Brother. She saw his mouth curl, showing a silver of white teeth, but he merely nodded and offered no additional comment. She knew later when things calmed down, he'd tease her  _mercilessly_  over it.

"Your reaction to seeing Raven was not exactly what I expected, Little Sister."

"She  _saved_  me Azazel," Clarice responded quickly, thankful that he changed the subject. " _You_  kept me, but  _she_  saved me. I've never forgotten that." Clarice glanced at her feet, watching them seem to float in the air. "When I was little - I mean _really little_  like when you first found me - I actually wished for a long time that she'd come back from wherever she had gone."

"Would you like it if she was around more now?" Azazel asked quietly.

"Why? What'd you do?  _Fuck_  and _make-up_  in Moscow?" Clarice snickered. After a few seconds of silence, she glanced up at Azazel. He was looking at her quite seriously; if anything, now  _his_  cheeks appeared much redder, and he seemed like he was trying to find words but coming short.  _Almost like he's embarrassed, but...?_ Realization bloomed on her face as all the pieces fell into place. "Oh,  _my God_ , you guys  _did_ ,  _didn't_  you?"

This time Azazel looked away, shrugging and mumbling something noncommittally. Clarice mouthed  _wow_  under her breath.

"So  _what?_  Are you two like a  _thing_  again?" She tilted her head, waiting for him to clarify.

"It's... _complicated._ "

"Ah yes, there's your  _favorite_  word again," Clarice pouted.  _Big Brother and The Hero, together at last_. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, given the pair's propensity for rather vicious fighting when they were within ten feet of each other. Plus, there was still the whole unresolved issue of the '67 raid, the one that catapulted Clarice into their lives and which the KGB (and Azazel, to a lesser degree) still blamed Raven for. It's not like the woman could just  _walk_  back into the East, mutter an apology and pick-up where she left off. Heck, Azazel was risking his life just by associating with her, even here in the West. They level of care she and Azazel took to hide their time at the school from the KGB was incredible. Save for this past week, she and Azazel had taken turns showing face at  _The Zaytsev,_ crashing various safe houses for a night or two, and taking the odd job here and there to just keep up appearances. Would Raven even  _want_  to go back East with them?

Did  _she_  even want to go back, at this point?

As Clarice mulled over these developing complications, she looked again for Peter. She spotted him still near Wanda, but now she watched as Scott broke away from his friends, running into the heart of the ruined school. Jean trailed after, her arms out in front of her as if calling him back. Clarice was much too far away to hear anything, but she could easily see that the teen was  _distraught_. He had fallen to his knees and removed his glasses, covering his eyes with his hands. Azazel was also watching him, clearly puzzled. Something was wrong; it seemed as if Scott was looking for something.  _Or someone_. Clarice bit her lip.  _Peter said he got everyone out before the explosion_. Suddenly, Kurt and Wanda appeared next to where Scott and Jean stopped. A sliver blur drew Clarice's eye back to the others. Peter had zipped over to Raven and Dr. McCoy just as the main helicopter landed, throwing opening its doors. A small brigade of soldiers emerged and advanced towards MacTaggert. For the first time, Clarice was  _glad_  there was a CIA agent present; if anyone could diffuse this situation in the Professor's place, it would be her.

 _You're welcome to stay on at the school, if you'd like._ Clarice frowned as the Professor's words from last week echoed in her mind. For the first time, she felt like she was standing in two worlds: one of bloodshed and survival in the East; the other of peace and normalcy in the West. She wasn't sure how to bridge those two worlds, or if they could be reconciled. Or, more fittingly, did she want them to be? The more time she spent in the West, the more the answer of where and what she wanted became clearer. Not that she could leave Big Brother behind, but maybe - now that he and Raven might have reconciled things - maybe he'd want to stay in the West, too? With her? With  _their_  family?

She rubbed her eyes; she was starting to really side with Kurt on their family being messed-up, and...

 _Kurt..._ Clarice's eyes snapped open and she swallowed hard. A cold rush of adrenaline tingled down her spine. O _h fuck, that's right. He knows._

She had gotten comfortable enough with Kurt as her nephew that she had completely forgotten that Azazel didn't know she'd accidentally told Kurt the truth about his parents a week ago.

" _Um_ , Azazel?" Clarice twisted her braid nervously. "There's  _uh_...there's something I need to tell you..."

"What are they doing?" Azazel spoke out loud, but it sounded as if he was asking himself.

"Look, it's kinda  _really_  important," Clarice cleared her throat. "It's about Ku..."

Azazel waved for her to be quiet as he moved forward slightly for a better view. She furrowed her brow and looked back towards their comrades. For the first time, she noticed the soldiers had drawn guns, and all seemed to be wearing industrial headgear...

" _Cover your ears!_ " Azazel's eyes went wide as he quickly shoved his palms over his ears. Clarice was confused, but she knew well enough to obey without question. Suddenly, a blinding pulse of light ripped through the crowd, seeming to emanate from the main helicopter. Clarice closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Instantly, she could feel her bones rattle, and she was hit by severe dizziness. After a few seconds, she felt Azazel tugging her hands offher ears. She opened her eyes. He looked pale and shaken.

"What the  _hell was_  that?" She manged to choked out before a wave of nausea hit her hard. She retched over the side, clutching a nearby branch tightly to avoid falling. She wiped her mouth and looked back at Azazel.

"Sound cannons," Azazel answered, taking a few deep breath through clenched teeth. She could tell he was feeling ill too, and fighting the urge to be sick. "I was afraid of that, when I saw the soldiers' gear. If used close enough, the weapons will knock a person out cold. We're far enough to avoid that, but _see!_ " Clarice gasped in horror when she looked at their friends. Everyone had fallen to the ground including Moira, Dr. McCoy, Raven, and... _Peter_.

Clarice instinctively grasped for her sword, but her fingers brushed against nothing.

"Where is your weapon?" Azazel hissed her. He already had both of his daggers drawn.

"All my weapons were in my room," Clarice whispered in shock. Her heart sank when she realized that her beautiful katana most likely went up in flames with the school.

"Then where is your Plan B?" He motioned to his own gun, making Clarice raise her eyebrow.

"What part of  _'all my weapons were in my room'_  was  _unclear_  to you?"

"You didn't have  _any_  weapons? How..?"

" _Damn it_ , I was in a  _kindergarten_ when the explosion happened!" Clarice practically yelled in frustration. "What kind of  _asshole_  brings a sword and a  _gun_  to a  _daycare_?!"

"Do you see Kurt?" Azazel ripped off his long sword off and tossed it to her. She quickly belted around her hips. Clarice was apt at using Azazel's weapons - he had made sure to train her on those just-in-case, and this situation was proving to be a pretty fucking big  _just-in-case_. She scanned the school's ruins again, praying that Kurt and his friends had been far enough way that to avoid being concussed. Nervously, she glanced back to Peter, but he was still lying in an unconscious heap on the ground. The commanding officer was now walking among the mutants, pointing out a select few as a soldier holding clipboard followed.

" _There!_ " Azazel whispered. She spied Kurt and his friends hidden behind a crumbling wall. Her heart leaped into her throat when she saw a solider lurking just on the other side. She tried to calculate how many jumps she'd need to do to reach them before the teens were discovered.  _But, rapid teleports - even Azazel's teleports - would draw attention_ , she reasoned,  _making the soldiers look for more mutants hiding_. If the teens was lucky, they'd go unnoticed...

" _Shit!_ " Clarice hissed when the solider turned his gun towards the cowering group. She pulled a crystal from the air, getting ready to break it, when suddenly, the solider turned away, moving on in his sweep. _How did he not see them?_  Clarice fretted. The group was clearly in plain view just behind the wall, crouching just behind Jean... _Jean!_   _Of course!_  She let out a relieved breath; she had never had he been so happy that the girl was a telepath, able to manipulate the solider's perception to hide her and her friends.

She heard Azazel hiss in sharply, and she looked back to the fallen crowed. The soldiers were now administering shots to a few select mutants - Raven and Peter among them - and strapping them into metal cots. Panic welled-up inside her. She had heard  _horror stories_  about mutant experimentation at the hands of the American government. She grabbing Azazel's arm in panic, and felt him tense under her fingers.  _We have to stop them._  She unsheathed her borrowed sword and pulled a larger crystal from the air, but before she could break it to teleport, Azazel snatched it out of her hand.

" _What the hell?_ " Clarice demanded, now on the verge of hysterics. "We have to  _help_  them!"

"Clarice,  _listen!_ " Azazel shook his head. "We cannot rush in. We're outnumbered and we have no plan, or advantage. Just  _wait_..."

" _Goddamn it_ , we can't just  _sit_  here!" She could feel tears stinging her eyes as she watched Dr. McCoy, and then Raven, disappear into the main helicopter. "We have to do  _something!_ "

"We are no good to them if we are  _dead_ ," he growled. " _Please_ , let me just  _think!_ "

Clarice bit her lip as she watched Azazel ponder the situation. He hadn't ever led them wrong before, but it was nearly  _impossible_  to wait when she wanted to leap up and stab every solider that touched their unconscious peers. She looked back to Kurt just in time to see the teens teleport to the other side of the main helicopter - the one the mutants had been loaded into.

"Azazel, _look_!" She pointed at the group just as they slipped inside, thanks to Jean again, unnoticed by the surrounding soldiers. As Azazel watched, she saw him re-sheath his daggers.

"I'm going with them," he said firmly, and turning to her he added, "you stay here with the students."

" _What?!_ " Clarice barked in disbelief. "You can't  _leave_  me!"

"I'm not going to argue with you," Azazel said calmly. He pointed to the helicopter. "They need me, and the students here need..."

" _No!_  You  _can't leave_  me!" Clarice pleaded. "I'm more skilled than all of those kids combined! I can  _fight!_  I  _can_...!" Azazel reached out and put his hand gently on the side of her face. She appealed to him through tears, her entire body shaking in anger and fear.

"I  _know_ ," Azazel said quietly. "I  _know_  you can fight. You are a  _better_  fighter than me. The  _best_  I have ever seen. And that is why you need to stay here. They," Azazel motioned to the students who were left behind, "need you to fight for them until we bring the Professor back."

"They took  _Peter_ ," Clarice's voice broke when she said his name. In that one moment, there was a look in Azazel's eyes that told her he understood her fear and pain, more than she'd ever gave him credit for knowing.

"And I am going to bring him back," Azazel held her gaze steady. "I promise, Little Sister."


	33. Prayer

Kurt wasn't sure  _what_  he expected when the four teens sneaked aboard the helicopter. All he really knew was that, since they had been further away and partially shielded by a crumbling wall, his little group had been spared the full brunt of whatever knocked out everyone else. As soon as they realized the military was not there to help, the teens knew it was up to them to do something -  _anything_ , really - to try and save their friends. Each had their own reason for volunteering for such a risky rescue mission: Scott hoped that maybe his brother was among those taken, and Jean thought that sneaking aboard was only way to find the Professor since Dr. McCoy and the pretty agent lady had clues to his whereabouts. There was no arguing with Wanda once Peter was sedated, and of course, Kurt wasn't about to let anyone steal away his mother, now that he finally knew who Raven truly was.

When the smoke cleared and they stood inside the helicopter's cargo bay however, the last thing Kurt ever expected was to be staring right down the barrel of a really,  _really big_ gun.

" _Freeze!_ " A young solider barked, swinging his weapon wildly between all four teens. His dark eyes were fearfully wide, no doubt from the group's unorthodox arrival. The only good news was that this soldier seemed to be the only one guarding the captives, and the noise inside helicopter was just loud enough that Kurt doubted anyone outside could hear.

" _Don't shoot!_ " Kurt threw up his hands, shifting his stance so that Wanda was behind him. " _Please_ , we don't want...!" The solider skirted back nervously, now training his gun on Kurt's  _face_. The indigo boy could see the weapon shaking in his hands. The soldier actually didn't look much older than he was, and he certainly looked as scared and confused as Kurt felt right about then.

 _I hope he's not so scared that he pulls the trigger,_ Kurt thought, swallowing hard. He knew that he could teleport away before the bullet reached him, but unless the others were holding on, they'd be left behind in the bullet's path. Kurt wanted so badly to look at Scott and Jean to see what their plan was, or if they even had a  _semblance_  of a plan, but with that big gun staring him down, Kurt was terrified to even  _breathe_.

Suddenly, red and black smoked burst into life just behind the soldier. Before Kurt could blink, Azazel seized the man from behind, grabbing barrel of his gun and forcing it away from the teens. In one fluid motion, the red mutant tripped the soldier with his tail, ripping the gun out of his hands and tossing it to Scott before slamming the soldier into the cargo bay wall. Disoriented, the soldier crumpled to the floor, but a second later, his body snapped straight up like a puppet on a string. The man's hands flew to his neck and he clawed desperately at Azazel's tail as it constricted tightly, cutting off his air. As the man gasped and kicked pathetically in the air, Kurt saw the gleam of metal protrude from Azazel's sleeve.

 _He's going to kill him._  Kurt suddenly had a flashback to The Danger Room and his stomach dropped.

" _Don't!_ " The indigo teen leaped into action, his own tail coiling tightly around Azazel's forearm. Kurt pulled back with all his strength and just managed to keep the dagger's tip from piercing the soldier's heart. Still choking, the young man's bloodshot eyes shifted to Kurt. He could see the soldier silently pleading for  _mercy_. Kurt wasn't  _stupid_ ; he had known fighting might be necessary during their rescue mission, but he didn't think  _killing_  had to be unless there really was no other choice. Kurt looked at Azazel; the red mutant's pale eyes were wide with disbelief.

" _Kurt,_ " Azazel growled, "this is  _nyet_  time for discuss..."

"If he releases you, will you surrender?" Jean interrupted, addressing the soldier directly. "Will you cause us no harm?" She still looked pale from their last teleport, and Kurt hoped her telepathy had returned to full strength by now. The young soldier nodded, tears leaking down his face. Clearly annoyed, Azazel hemmed a few seconds longer before sighing angrily, releasing the man in mid-air. He fell to the ground and landed hard on his side, gulping air.

"Oh God,  _thank you_..." Kurt jumped back as the soldier reached out towards him.

" _Nyet. Another. Move._ " Azazel hissed as he flicked his tail's spade to press against the soldier's throat like a knife, staring him down with bared teeth like an animal. He still held his dagger at the ready, poised to end the man's life in a heartbeat. The soldier slowly held-up his trembling hands in surrender, his eyes locked on Azazel's blade. Kurt was really glad the red mutant was on  _their_  side; clearly, the man did  _not_  screw around.

"Jean?" Scott stepped up next to Azazel, now pointing the gun at the solider. "Think you can...?"

"I'm already on it," Jean placed two fingers against her temple and closed her eyes. After a tense minute, the young soldier's eyes rolled back and he slumped over. Azazel and Scott relaxed their weapons.

"There," Jean blinked her eyes open. Kurt frowned at the small trickle of blood now seeping from her nose. "Now he'll be out for  _hours_ and no threat to us."

"Jean? You have a little,  _um_..." Wanda pointed to her own face. Jean wiped nose quickly, frowning herself when she saw bright streak on her hand. The redhead looked-up and quickly waved away her friends' concern.

"I'm  _alright_ , really. It happens sometimes when I  _overexert_  myself, that's all," Jean thanked Azazel as he offered her his handkerchief. "I was able to wipe his memories of us before I put him to sleep, so no one will know we hitched a ride. And, he'll just think he hit his head during turbulence and was knocked out."

" _How_  did you..?" Kurt cocked his head as he addressed Azazel, clearly puzzled. " _Where_ did you come from?" Now that his shock was waning, Kurt realized he hadn't seen Azazel anywhere in the crowd; heck, he hadn't even known Raven was there until she was being loaded for transport. Before Azazel could answer, the helicopter blades hummed to life, causing the teens to gasp and look up nervously.

" _Hurry!_ " Wanda urged, moving towards her sleeping brother. She dropped to her knees and started tugging on the straps binding Peter. "Maybe, if we can release them, we can just  _teleport_  off before..."

The surrounding walls suddenly light up in brilliant green, causing even Azazel to startle. The burst of light made Kurt accidentally teleport - he couldn't always control it when he was  _spooked_  - and he felt a bolt of pain radiate through his body when he hit a wall upon reappearing. He stumbled, nearly losing his balance and falling. He quickly vanished again, only to reappear on the other side of the cargo bay, slamming into another wall. This time he did fall to the floor.  _I can't teleport out_ , Kurt thought, looking around disoriented.  _Just like the fight cage in Berlin._  He was on the verge of hyperventilating when he felt a hand on his shoulder.  _  
_

" _Stop_ ," Azazel said softly, crouching down to be on his level. "Stop before you hurt self. Is no use teleporting until they turn field  _off_." Kurt looked up at him, fighting the urge to panic. Kurt couldn't teleport himself or anyone else outside the mysterious electric field, and judging by Azazel's words, neither could he.

They were now officially  _stuck_.

"What do we do  _now?_ " Scott asked quietly, looking at all his friends before his gaze stopped on Azazel. Actually, Kurt realized that everyone was now looking at Azazel, as if the man had answers to their predicament. The red mutant seemed to realize this too, and he stood up a little straighter, his mouth set in a hard line. For the first time, Kurt thought that Azazel looked rather unsure, bordering on almost appearing alarmed. From the little Clarice told Kurt about Azazel's life, the red mutant seemed more like a loner, not a  _leader_. As the helicopter took to the air, Wanda stumbled, her fall prevented only by Jean grabbing her arm. Azazel motioned for them all to sit. The four young mutants sat along one wall and Azazel sat facing them, looking them over them for a long moment before speaking.

"Listen carefully, all of you. This is  _nyet_  TV,  _nyet_  movie. That soldier," he pointed at the slumbering man in the far corner, "would have  _shot_  you. All these men will shoot you -  _kill_  you - if they have even smallest chance. They will  _nyet_  hesitate," Azazel paused, rubbing his eyes before looking directly at each teen.

"I know you do  _nyet_  like the idea of killing, so please, pay attention. Now," he held-up his hand and tapped his finger on the base of his palm, "strike opponent hard in center of chest with this part of hand, you will knock the air from him. Before he recovers, hit him again in an upward motion into face, like this," Azazel pantomimed the move on Scott, stopping before actually making contact with Scott's nose. " _Da?_  See what I did? Do that with enough strength, opponent will fall, and be asleep. Then take  _all_  his weapons. Use them or break them, and take all ammunition.  _Never_  leave enemy with weapon,  _ever_. And use mutations, all of you. Do  _nyet_  be afraid."

"Not all of us can control them," Scott grumbled, and Kurt could hear the fear edged in his voice. Of all their mutations, Scott's caused the most damage with the less amount of effort, which made for a lot of problems when it went haywire.

"Then do  _nyet_  control," Azazel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He seemed out of his league advising them, but to suddenly find oneself with four young, inexperienced mutants seeking guidance  _during_  a real-life, dangerous situation...well, Kurt didn't blame the man one bit for his frustration. "Jean, what did you learn in soldier's mind?"

"We're headed to a highly-classified military base," Jean answered quickly. "Unfortunately, our friend here wasn't high ranking enough to have a lot of information, but I did see that it's some kind of  _research facility_ , and it's a few hours flight from school grounds."

"Good, we know what to expect at least," Azazel nodded. He looked over Kurt and Wanda for a few seconds before rolling back his sleeves and removing the twin daggers and their sheaths from his wrists. He then handed one to each teen, motioning for them to put them on. Kurt turned his arm over and admired his new blade. He had never used with a  _real_  dagger before; he'd only used the wooden training swords during practice. It looked very sharp, and he made a mental note to be very careful. Next, Azazel pointed at Scott. "You know how to use gun?"

"Yeah, Alex taught me when I was..." Scott's voice stumbled over Alex's name. He looked at the four sedated mutants, but none were his brother. His lower lip started to tremble. Jean reached for him but he turned away, covering his face. Azazel titled his head slightly, seeming confused.

"We couldn't find Alex," Wanda whispered to Azazel. He seemed to ponder her words for a second before realization set in.

"Your brother would be proud if he could see how brave you are now," Azazel consoled him. Scott looked over, tears dripping from under his glasses.

"Alex was really  _happy_  for you," Jean added, putting her hand on Scott's shoulder. "He felt you were headed for such great things at the school. Bigger and better things than he ever did. He really was  _proud_  of you."

"How could either of you  _know_  how Alex felt?" Scott sniffled, wiping away his tears. Kurt frowned, feeling his heart ache for his friend.

"Because I know how _everyone_ feels," Jean sighed, "whether I want to or not."

"And I know because  _I_  am proud of you." Azazel then looked at all the young mutants and nodded. "Proud of all of you. You took big risk to help friends. Very brave.  _Foolish,_ with no plan," he added, almost smiling, "but  _brave_."

"So what do we do now?" Wanda asked, her voice quiet. Kurt smiled, trying again to look confident for her benefit, but Wanda's silver eyes shimmered with fear. Of all of them, she had  _no_  fight training at all. Kurt watched her slender fingers unconsciously trace patterns hilt of her dagger. He doubted Azazel's blade would do much in her hands, but he was glad the man had given her  _something_ , even if only to make her feel safer.

"Now, you all try to rest," Azazel settled back against the wall, "and I keep watch."

"Are you  _serious_?" Wanda raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "You're suggested we try to get _some sleep?_ "

"I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep  _again_ ," Jean muttered. After the events of the last hour, Kurt was inclined to agree with her.

"When you live to be as old as me," Azazel smirked, "you learn value of resting when you can. We have much ahead of us, and do  _nyet_  know when, of  _if,_ we will rest again. So sleep now, worry later."

* * *

Azazel watched the gentle rise and fall of Raven's chest as she slept. He knew the captives had been sedated, so there was no point in trying to rouse her. What he planned with his rogue team once the helicopter landed, he wasn't quite sure, but he had time to think. The addition of the electric containment field posed an unexpected complication. Unlike his son, Azazel could actually teleport through such fields, although they severely limited him. He'd only be able to jump with one person at a time, which meant that even if they freed their comrades, he still needed to make  _fifteen total_ jumps to and from a moving vehicle (which posed its own set of difficulties). He wasn't confident he could accomplish that feat without blacking out or dropping someone. It seemed best to wait until the helicopter landed and go from there.

He shifted slightly to better see the teens. In spite of their protest, all four were sound asleep: Scott with his head on Jean's lap while the girl leaned against the wall, her hand tangled in his dark hair; Kurt with his arm around Wanda, her head against his chest and his chin resting on top. The trauma of the day had utterly exhausted them. Azazel couldn't help but smile; he had been there before, young and wild and yet to learn the lesson of wisely bidding one's time. As he watched over them, his thoughts drifted to Clarice, to the pain and fear in her young and wild eyes when he told her to stay behind. That was the hardest decision he ever made, but it was for her own good. Clarice was too emotionally invested in this mission, and it would hinder her ability to think clearly. Yes, Raven was here and so was Kurt, but unlike Clarice, Azazel had a  _lifetime_  of experience turning off his emotions when walking into battle. The girl was an incredible fighter, and any other time Azazel wouldn't hesitate to trust her with his life. But, this was the first time Clarice was experiencing anything like  _love_ ; it would make her rash and prone to making mistakes, especially if Peter was in danger or if their enemies used him against her. Maybe Azazel was being selfish, but he couldn't risk losing Clarice, too.

Before they drifted off, Azazel told the teens all he knew about using mutations in battle. He told Jean about Emma, could bend men to her will and bring scores of soldiers to their knees just by smiling. He told Scott about Janos, who could crumble buildings with a twist of his hands, who also had to learn to control his power carefully, less he cause an accidental hurricane by flicking his wrist. He told Wanda about Angel, who wasn't a trained fighter when they first met, but who quickly proved through determination and sheer grit to be a formidable opponent. He told Kurt about himself, about their shared mutation's useful tricks and its limitations. They listened to him with wide-eyed reverence, invested in his every word. He kept the stories short - he didn't divulge specific details about his past with the Hellfire Club or Brotherhood - instead, he wanted to show the teens they could trust in their powers and themselves, and to not be afraid. It was the only hope he could think to give them in this dark hour. Azazel wasn't sure how Charles did this  _every day_  for his students; he was even starting to wonder if he should've given Magneto a bit credit when they worked together. Leadership was proving to be difficult at best.

Azazel turned his attention to Kurt. He studied the boy's face, this time noting how much of Raven he could see when Kurt's features were slack and serious. He had inherited the shape of Raven's mouth but Azazel's strong jawline; there was something too about Kurt's nose that looked like hers, but something about his cheekbones that looked like his. Kurt had inherited Raven's beautiful colors, but Azazel could see just enough of his own red mixed in to make their son's skin a deeper blue, not exactly the same his mother's bright royal hue. The boy was built more like him but at only seventeen, Kurt had yet to put on the weight and hard muscle that would fill his youthful frame into a man's body. It seemed like two lifetimes ago that Azazel could recall having the lanky, lean body of a boy still needing to grow into his hands and feet (and of course, _tail_ ).

After the events of the last week, Azazel was grateful for this little moment, for the small luxury of watching over his son and seeing how much he truly reflected both he and Raven mixed together in _perfection_.

Kurt's life had not been an accident; Azazel knew this for the truth, as he was sure Raven did in her heart. In the time after Raven and Kurt fled Latvia, Azazel figured Kurt's conception date back to their time on Tahiti. Just before he and Raven traded the East for two weeks of sun in the South Pacific, they visited a comrade of theirs for a debriefing. Her partner Neena had given birth four months prior, and Azazel never forgot the look on Raven's face as she held Neena's baby, its tiny hands reaching for her as she gazed down, smiling.  _Motherhood looks good on you,_  Azazel remembered joking after she handed the baby back. She rolled her eyes and laughed, but to Azazel, Raven never looked more beautiful that she did right then. In that one moment, he suddenly wanted to know what it would have looked like if Raven had been holding  _their_  child instead. When he took her hand to leave, Raven looked up at him with bright eyes, and he wondered if she had felt the same.

While they never actually  _discussed_  having a child, later that night in Tahiti as he laid her down on the wet sand, they hadn't been as  _careful_  as they'd always been before. It was almost conspiratorially how they smiled at each other, how he hadn't bothered to reach for protection and how she hadn't insisted on them using any. They only laughed and enjoyed each other, neither addressing the fact they were being reckless, both of them wanting the one thing that they never asked out loud of the other.

Azazel smiled at these memories as he looked at their son. Kurt was the child he and Raven never asked for but desperately wanted, and he would make sure they all survived this mess. After all, that's what  _fathers_  were for.

* * *

Kurt kept his eyes shut and tried to will himself back to sleep, but his racing thoughts would only let him be still for short stretches of time. Wanda was still next to him, but she had long since curled up on the floor, her head now on his lap and his jacket her makeshift blanket as she dozed. Next to them, Scott and Jean were huddled together, both still asleep. Outside of the constant drone of the helicopter's blades, the only sound in the cargo hold was Peter's rhythmic snoring. He was glad at least his friends could get some sleep, and also that Jean was somehow not having a nightmare. Kurt wasn't sure how many more surprises his poor heart would be able to take that day.

The indigo teen glanced over at Azazel. The man sat against the wall next to Raven and Moira's cots, his head pitched forward and his eyes closed. It was the first time since Kurt found out who his parents really were that he was finally in the same room as them. He wanted so badly to talk to Azazel and Raven, to tell them that he knew and ask them questions he needed answering, but now was not the time nor the place. Even if Raven was conscious and able to participate, Kurt wanted to do it right, and not in front of an audience of his peers. Kurt's eyes darted over to Raven's cot and he noticed with a small degree of pleasure that Azazel's tail was loosely wrapped around her wrist.

As if sensing he was being watch, Azazel opened his eyes and looked up.

"How are you doing,  _moy mal'chik_?" He smiled and asked quietly so as not wake the others. Kurt shrugged noncommittally, not sure how he was actually doing. Honestly, it had been a  _really_   _weird_  day, and he was feeling about a hundred different things at once. Azazel sighed, bowing his head. "Kurt, I know you do not want to be here with me, not after last time, but we are stuck right now,  _da?_ "

" _Nein_ , it's not that," Kurt answered quickly, shaking his head. Azazel glanced up again but this time looked surprised. "I'm just... _well_ ," Kurt struggled, trying to find the right words. "Look, I'm really sorry I called you a  _monster_. I didn't really mean how it came out." Azazel remained silent but tilted his head, clearly not expecting this omission. Kurt swallowed, continuing. "I'm sorry I didn't..."

" _Nyet_  Kurt," Azazel held up his hand, stopping Kurt's apology. "You are right; I am  _monster_. Truth is, fighting is all I have ever known. I was taken from my family when I was very little, and told I must fight or die, just like you in Berlin. Only there was no hero to rescue me, and my fight never ended. It was all I knew for so long."

Azazel then took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before continuing.

"First time I killed someone, I was  _fifteen_ ," he paused, tapping the base of the deep scar cutting across his eye. "I got this scar from him, during that fight. Every time I look in mirror, I remember this. I still see his face, sometimes. No one should have to live like that. What you saw in The Danger Room," Azazel paused again, this time to nod, " _da_ , I did that. I  _killed_  those men. But you must understand that happened long ago and there was no  _Xavier School_  for me. I never want that for you, to be your life."

Azazel then reached into the front of his shirt and pulled out Kurt's rosary. Kurt gasped softly, surprised he still wore it. Part of him wondered if Azazel had been wearing it all these weeks, concealed under his shirt. He slipped the holy necklace off, looking at the beads in his hands.

"I never want that for you, for any of your friends, not when you have choice I was never given." Azazel held out the rosary for Kurt. "When helicopter lands, if we must kill, then let  _me_  do the killing. It is too late for me anyways, to be saved."

"We can  _all_  be saved, d... _Azazel_ ," Kurt quickly corrected himself as he took the rosary. Luckily, Azazel didn't seem to hear his near slip.

"Then pray for me. I ask you to, please." Azazel closed his eyes again, leaning his head back. Kurt felt the familiar beads slip between his fingers, still warm from the heat of his father's body. Wrapping the rosary around his wrist, Kurt folded his hands in prayer.

"Hail Mary, Full of Grace, the Lord is with Thee..."


	34. Revelations

_**Secret Military Research Base, Undisclosed Location - United States of America** _

Raven sat leaned against a holding cell pier, careful not to touch the bright green electric bars pulsing in the wall behind her. She had regained consciousness a while ago but still felt stiff and groggy from whatever sedative was used on her. The blue woman suspected she'd been administered a much higher dose than her peers, as she'd been the last of the captives to wake and her shifting cells always fought hard against medication. Her mutation certainly had its pros and cons in the autoimmune department: on one hand, it gave her the advantage of healing in about one-fourth the time as the average human, but on the other, those rare times Raven legitimately caught a cold were a  _real bitch_. She always felt like she was going to die when sick, and she had to suffer in a doped-up stupor from the massive quantity of medicine necessary to combat any illness that conquered her natural defenses.

Hank coughed, drawing Raven's attention. The now blue man sat nearby with his knees pulled to his chest and rubbing his left forearm while looking down and muttering quietly to himself. It was harder to read his facial expression through his abundant fur, but she could tell from his body language that he was deep in thought.  _Hopefully working out some advanced mathematical equation that'll bust us out of here_ , she halfheartedly wished. Hank had been the one to gently wake her and explain their present situation, not that he really needed to explain much: the military containment cage, its electrified walls, and the heavily armed soldiers milling around their bullet-proof tower spoke  _volumes_  on their own, as did the fact that Hank sported  _fur_  again, letting her know that they'd been unconscious for hours. Periodically the commanding officer - a man Raven instantly recognized as Col. William Stryker - seized the intercom and bellowed at them, demanding answers that they simply didn't have.

There was one moment when Stryker stared hard at Raven, his narrowed eyes seeming to bore into her soul, where she felt afraid enough to look away. Even with her blonde disguise hiding her blue identity, Stryker would recognize her as  _Mystique the Hero,_ but Raven really wondered if Stryker knew she'd actually  _been him_  once in '74, the year she had fished Logan out of the Potomac. She wondered what rage Stryker would unleash if he knew she had worn his face to free his prized target from a watery grave, and rescue Logan from the twisted man's experiments. She suddenly wondered what ever happened to Logan, her two-week friend and one-night lover, after they parted ways while running through Canada.

And, the longer they remained trapped with Stryker glaring down like some twisted Zeus atop Olympus, Raven wondered what was going to happen to  _them_.

 _At least it's quiet now_ , she reasoned with mild relief. Moira had finally abandoned her attempt to pull rank and coerce the soldiers into releasing them, and after suffering a few nasty shocks, Peter stopped trying to run his way out of the cell (although thanks to his short-sighted panic, the room still stunk from his burned sneakers). Both of them stood cross-armed, looking around while silently contemplating their situation. For this, Raven was glad; the sound of Moira's heels clicking on the metal floor and Peter's panicked flight had been grating on her nerves.

As the blue woman waited for something - for  _anything,_  really - to inspire an escape plan, her thoughts drifted to Azazel and Clarice. Part of her desperately hoped they had witnessed her group's abduction and were right now planning a rescue mission. Raven hoped too that Kurt and his friends were safe, but part of her dreaded the possibility that they too had been captured, or... _worse_. If the military was bold enough to kidnap her group, then she had reason to fear that others may have been captured as now.  _I promised Azazel I'd take care of Kurt_ , Raven thought as she squeezed her eyes shut against the threat of tears. Once again she felt she'd failed them both, and now here she was - reduced to some useless  _damsel in distress_  awaiting some miracle to save her.

_Raven, HELP!_

The memory of Charles's pained voice suddenly echoed in her mind, pulling her back from her despair. She took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes, looking hard at the soldiers in the glass tower above, and glaring at Stryker's smug face as he decided their fate.  _Charles needs us_ , Raven rallied, this time clenching her teeth.  _The world needs the X-Men, more now than ever_.

The blue woman would not sit idle and wait to be rescued. It was up to them to save themselves; they just had to figure out  _how_.

* * *

As Raven pondered possible escape plans, her thoughts slipped back to the weeks just after the Brotherhood disbanded when she first ran away with Azazel to start her life anew. The pair didn't immediately jump from Houston to Moscow. Instead, they spend some time traveling almost leisurely around the globe - time Azazel would later jokingly refer to as their  _honeymoon_  - before ending-up in a KGB hideout where Azazel made a case for his American woman to be allowed to stay in the East. Of course, the KGB accepted him back with open arms since Azazel was one of their one. Only later Raven would learn that he'd technically never left his KGB employment; it was more like Shaw kept Azazel on a  _retainer_ , one that easily transferred to the Brotherhood because the KGB could keep watch on the mutant uprising in the West. Raven's nationality, however, was under suspicion from the day she stepped out of Azazel's shadow.

From that first interaction, Raven immediately felt like an  _outsider_  trespassing in a society where she didn't belong. Azazel moved so easily among the other mutant operatives and KGB circles, whereas Raven constantly felt like she was tagging along, melting back into her old disguises. At first the blue woman had been thrilled to see so many  _female mutants_  in the operative ranks; a far cry from her old team where she was the only girl in the _boys' club_  after Angel defected. But the KGB women were cold towards her, refusing to speak English around her even when Azazel addressed his comrades directly in Raven's native language. She knew all the operatives spoke English and that they knew she was still learning Russian. For a long time, Raven was only able to understand a few foreign words and phrases from passing conversation; words like  _trader_ ,  _American_ , _slut,_  and  _bitch_ (never uttered within Azazel's earshot, of course).

"They  _hate_  me," Raven remembered lamenting one night when the two were finally alone, laying in bed after some necessary social event.

"What?" Azazel paused, looking up from where he had been kissing her stomach.

"The other mutants. They  _hate_  me," she repeated, this time frowning.

"They do  _nyet_  hate you," he chided indulgently, lowering his head again. "You  _worry_  too much."

"Of course  _you'd_  say that," Raven mumbled. He'd always brushed off his comrades' behavior as if it was just some cultural thing she didn't understand.

"You really want to talk about this  _now_?" Azazel looked up again. When she nodded, he simply sighed and laced his fingers together, resting his chin on his hands just below her navel.

"Raven, you are  _American_ , an  _outsider._ We arrived here only few weeks ago. They do  _nyet trust_  you, yet. You must give them  _time_." He watched her patiently, and she remembered how his face bobbed slightly with each breath she drew.

"Zaz, I'll  _always_  be  _American_ ," she bemoaned. "I can't  _change_  that. How am I ever  _not_  going to be an outsider here?"

"You could marry me."

" _What?_ "

" _Marry me_ ," he repeated, this time flashing a clever smile. She remembered how his dark hair cut across his face like knives and his words sounded more like a  _challenge_  than a  _proposal_.

"I can't  _marry_  you," Raven giggled as she shook her head, her fiery hair spilling over her shoulders.

"Why  _nyet_?" He taunted playfully. "Give one  _good_  reason."

" _First_ , we don't have any  _papers;_   _second_ , I don't have a  _birth certificate_  and I sincerely  _doubt_  you have one, or a passport, or even some sort of ID;  _third_ , the KGB would have to give us permission..." Raven shook her head, dismissing the idea. "How are we supposed to...?"

" _Those_  are your reasons?" Azazel interrupted, now smirking. " _Really?_  You think I can  _nyet_  arrange these things? _Papers_ , she complains!" He rolled his eyes and laughed. "We talk  _later_."

"Zaz, we  _can't_  just..." Then, she remembered her voice melting into something embarrassingly like a squeal when he resumed tracing patterns on her skin with his tongue, and they didn't get much more  _talking_  done after that.

Then a few weeks later, he did the impossible, and all behind her back, too. Azazel presented her  _official papers_  - God only knew the favors he curried to secure them - legally binding them as  _husband_  and  _wife_.  _All you have to do is sign here_ , he smiled as he got down on one knee and held up a pen instead of a ring. They married young and even threw a small party a few days later to celebrate. Most of the other operatives never actually came around to accepting Raven; instead, Raven simply stopped caring what they thought of her. Her Russian advanced to fluency and she was finally able to tell her comrades to  _fuck off;_  the ones who laughed in response she kept as friends. It was Raven and Azazel against the world, anyways; they just had no idea how much the world was going to throw at them in a few short years.

* * *

" _Psst!_ "

Raven startled as the whisper cut through her daydreamed memories. She glanced up to find Peter waving at her from where he stood. She frowned as she regarded at him and rubbed her left forearm absentmindedly. It still felt sore from the injection.

" _What?_ " She shot back. In a heartbeat, he was sitting next to her, making Raven's hair stir and causing her to flinch. She wasn't used to Peter's speed. After the last hour of him circling the cage in panicked flight, Raven wonder how he wasn't completely exhausted.  _He's like a hummingbird_ , she thought as Peter nervously fingered the goggles around his neck.  _A hummingbird on crack._

"Can I ask you a question?" He leaned toward her and whispered loud enough to make Moira raise her eyebrow at the pair.

"You just  _did,_ " Raven answered dryly. She was almost  _amused_  by his attempt to be quiet.

"Ok yeah, I guess  _technically_  I did," he conceded with a goofy smile. "But can I ask you another one? Like  _after_  this one? And,  _this_  one? And...?"

"What do you  _want_ , Peter?" Raven could feel a headache coming on and any amusement she had evaporating swiftly. She suddenly wished the soldiers hadn't confiscated the boy's Walkman.

"So you're  _Mystique_?" He paused, waiting for her to nod. "And, since you're  _Mystique_ , that means you know  _Magneto_ , right?"

"We worked together once," Raven eyed him cautiously, "but that was a really  _long_  time ago..."

"What was he  _like_?" Peter blurted out. His silver eyes were suddenly so earnest and eager that for a moment, Raven was at a loss for words. She also wasn't sure she liked where this was going.

"I'm not sure I understand...?"

"What was he like as a  _person?_ " The speedster clarified. "Like was he the kind of person who liked to make jokes? Or was he always brooding and serious, like he was on TV that day? Did he have a favorite band? Or, I  _dunno_ , a catch-phrase or something? Or did he...?

"Why do you  _care?_ " Raven snapped - a little more forceful than intended - making Peter frown slightly and lean back. By now the blue woman was irritated. The more time she was distracted by his rambling questions, the less time she was thinking of ways to escape. It was bad enough the room still smelled like scorched rubber from his shoes.

"It's just that Magneto...I mean  _Erik Lehnsherr?_ " Peter stumbled over Erik's human name. He then took a long breath, letting his cheeks puff out as he released it. "He's like...well, he's kinda...he's my _dad_."

" _What?_ " Raven rotated her entire body to face Peter, her mouth agape in shock. " _How_...?"

" _Um_ , well he and my mom, at least  _once_..." Peter made a circle with one hand and started thrusting his finger into it.

"Yes, I know how  _that part_  works," Raven felt her cheeks flush as she slapped Peter's hands to stop his graphic demonstration. "I'm just ... _surprised_ , is all." Raven bit her lip, looking the speedster over. "How old are you?"

"I turned twenty-six on January 20th!" He beamed as if it was an accomplishment. Considering how  _vexing_  Peter could be at times, Raven supposed it just might be an accomplishment for him to live that long.

"You were born in 1958 then?" Peter nodded and Raven did a quick count before pursing her lips. "I worked with Erik in '62 and '63, and I saw him again in '73. He never mentioned anything about a  _son_."

"Well, I don't think my mom bothered to mention it to  _him_ ," Peter said as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "I only found out when I was  _fifteen,_ the same day I saw you guys on TV and just a few weeks after I helped bust him out of super prison. All my mom said was that he was  _bad news,_ and judging by the fact I just watched him drop a  _stadium_  on the White House and then try to  _kill_  the president, I kinda had to agree with her, at least then."

"He wasn't always like that," Raven countered quietly. "Erik could be  _passionate_ , and yes, sometimes that passion came out in well... _dramatic_ ways, like what you saw on TV. But you have to understand that Erik cared  _so deeply_  for the people around him - for his mutant friends and family - that there were times I thought he was going to go mad worrying about our needs instead of his own. There was always  _good_  in him, if you just knew where to look." The blue woman reflected on the statement, smiling softly. In so many ways, Erik and Charles really were the same person; they just had different ways of showing their love and loyalty. The Erik she knew - the man she still cared about enough to run halfway across the world to save - wasn't the man Peter saw on TV. That wasn't the Erik who told Raven her blue scales were perfection, who distracted Angel with jokes while he mended her damaged wings, who treated Janos as his equal, who insisted on freeing Emma despite their troubled past, and who didn't show any fear when confronting Azazel during a heated disagreement during a mission. It was the same Erik who liked a cold beer on a hot day, who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty doing dishes, darning socks, or fixing a car engine. The same Erik who'd do anything to protect his... _family_.

And then, an idea came to Raven like a whisper of hope:  _Peter might be the key to unlocking Erik_.

Erik, the man who loved his family so much that he'd rage against the world in the wake of their deaths, just might turn his powers back to their side if he could fight for the child he still had. Raven looked at Peter again, this time searching his face. For the first time, she could see hints of her former leader in his features. The small cleft in his chin, for example, and his honest, lopsided smile; even the light in Peter's eyes reminder her of Erik, although Erik's eyes were more steel than silver. There were other echoes as well, now that Raven knew the truth. _Why didn't I see it before?_

Taking a deep breath, Raven told Peter what she could about his father, all the little things that she as a mother should have told her own son long ago. Peter listened with rapt interest, smiling at stories of Erik's kindness and strength, and his eyes glistening at the news of his half-sister's death and Erik's role in kidnapping Charles. When she finished, Peter was quiet for a long time, looking down at his sneakers and twisting their laces in thought. When he finally looked up, his eyes were red and raw. Hank and Moira were courteous enough to pretend they couldn't hear to spare Peter any embarrassment.

"You know, for a guy who's as  _fast_  as I am," Peter paused to wipe his cheek with his sleeve, "I always seem to be just a few minutes  _too late_."

"It's not too late," Raven said, reaching out and laying her hand over his.

"Green light," he mumbled, squeezing her hand gently. Raven cocked her head and a second later, Peter seemed to realize what he said and laughed. "Oh,  _sorry!_  Force of habit, I guess. It's this thing I have with Clarice. You know,  _Clarice?_  My  _girlfriend?_ "

"Yeah," she gave him a friendly nod.

"We're totally  _dating,_  and she's super hot, and..."

"Peter I know who Clarice is," Raven rolled her eyes. "The point I'm trying to make is that  _I_  haven't given up on Erik, and honestly, I don't think  _Charles_  will  _ever_  give up on him, no matter what happens. He's part our family - our  _mutant_  family. It's not always easy and we don't always agree on things, but your father has more family who loves him than he knows, whether he's ready to see that or not."

"Yeah," Peter smiled sadly and sniffled. "Families are  _hard_ , man."

"You can say  _that_  again," Raven smirked at the sentiment. At least she and the speedster could agree on that. "Hey," she raised an eyebrow,"you're  _sure_  you didn't inherit any  _metal bending_  abilities? Because that would come in  _really handy_  right about now." A sly grin grew on Peter's face. He bit his lip and closed his eyes before holding his hands out in front of him until they started to shake. For a second, Raven could see echos of Erik's determination in his son before Peter dropped his arms and peeled into laughter.

"Yeah,  _nope! S_ orry," he snickered, "but hey, check out the  _consolation prize!_ " Peter rifled through his an inside pocket in his silver jacket. With a showman's flourish, he produced a pair of Twinkies, giving Raven a conspiratorial wink. At the sight of food ( _if_  Twinkies could be called food, at least), Raven's eyes grew wide.

"How did you...?"

"Never travel without emergency snacks!" Peter smiled and tossed one to Raven. She held the familiar plastic wrapper in her hands. She couldn't remember the last time she held a Twinkie, let alone ate one.  _Honestly_ , she thought, _the last time I remember eating Twinkies was in the airplane hanger with Hank in the old days_...Raven suddenly glanced up, looking for Hank. When their eyes met, his knowing smile gave away that he was thinking the same.  _How long have we come since that day?_

"Hey,  _CIA! Dr. Hyde!_ " Peter whistled. Moira perked up when Peter held up a Twinkie. He broke his in half, handing half to the agent while Raven shared hers with Hank. As they sat chewing, Hank suddenly started giggling.

"What could  _possible_  be so funny?" Moira demanded, clearly not amused. Her remark only made Hank start laughing harder. Before she could stop herself, Raven started giggling too, infected from Hank. Peter watched with a smile on his face as he slogged down his treat.

" _Nothing,_ " Hank paused to wipe a stray tear. "It's just I never thought when I got up today that later I'd be eating  _Twinkies_  in a secret military base after my home  _exploded_ , that's all." A few minutes later, even Moira had to smile as she shook her head. That was all it took for the four to melt into laughter.

Sometimes, laughter was really the  _best_. Raven always believed if she couldn't laugh to relieve stress, she'd cry all the time. She remembered times when she and Azazel would be howling over something trivial, even when blood was still drying on his swords: full body laughter so hard that her sides would ache. They'd finally calm down only to look at each other, gasping for breath, and then something small - a twitch of the hand, a sparkle in one's eye or the a curl of a lip - would send them peeling into laughter all over again until they collapsed. It was something she and Charles shared too, as family.  _Families could be..._

Suddenly, a explosion echoed in somewhere deep in the base, making the lights in their containment cell flicker. All four captives ducked instinctively.

" _Wat da 'ell?!_ " Peter yelled, his voice muffled by his Twinkie. Red alarm lights began to flash in the tower windows, and the soldiers scrambled into action. The four captives exchanged worried glances as their laughter was silenced.

"I don't like this at all," Moira whispered as watching the panic unfold above.

 _Whatever is frightening those men_ , Raven swallowed hard, _I just hope it's on our side._

* * *

" _Jesus_  Scott," Jean frowned, looking at the smoking hole where a wall once stood.

"Well, if they didn't know we were here  _before_ , they know  _now_ ," Kurt surmised. As if to highlight the weight of his words, another flaming brick crumbled, shattering with a dull thud when it reached the floor. Azazel stood nearby with one hand over eyes, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

" _Scott_ ," he whispered, a touch of anger in his voice, "do  _nyet_  do that  _again!_ "

"It was an  _accident!_ " Scott hissed back as he adjusted his glasses. "I can't always control it, especially not when  _someone_  bumps into me!" Scott glared at Wanda, making the redhead cast her eyes guiltily towards her feet. Kurt knew Scott was more ashamed with himself than mad at Wanda, and that Azazel's warning was out of concerned for the group's safety rather than actual anger. Still, Kurt felt bad for his friend.

"I can't always control it either," Kurt offered, putting his hand on Scott's shoulder. "Sometimes if I sneeze, or I'm watching scary movie and a monster jumps out, I..."

" _Tishina!_ " Azazel rebuked. "Kurt,  _silence!_ "

"But I was  _just_..."

" _Nyet_  all of you!" Azazel hissed, clearly exasperated. He held up a finger, pointing and whisper yelling at each. "Kurt, be  _quiet!_  Scott, _keep glasses on!_  Wanda,  _watch feet!_  Jean...!" He hesitated when he reached the telepath and she held up her hands almost in challenge. Jean hadn't actually done anything to incur reprimanding. Azazel sighed loudly, covering his face with both hands. Usually the man was so relaxed, but right now Kurt thought he looked wound as tight as a guitar string about to snap.

"If you are  _nyet_  more careful starting  _now_  I swear I will take you all back to the school myself!"

"We  _are_  being careful," Wanda huffed back, crossing her arms. "Besides, there's not exactly a school to go back to!"

"Then be  _more careful!_ " He warned. "This is  _nyet_  game! If not _careful,_  we all get  _killed."_

His last words hung with weight in the air, making all the teens frown and look away. Azazel then motioned for them to  _stay put_ before vanishing. In spite of Azazel's warning on the helicopter, in a lot of ways, storming the military base was just like a movie; the real difference was that Kurt didn't want to be watching  _this_  movie. He tried his hardest to be brave, but whenever they came to a stop while Azazel plotted their next move, he sometimes couldn't stop his hands from shaking. He took a little comfort in the fact that Scott's hands were shaking when he fixed his glasses, and Jean hadn't uncrossed her arms once since they landed.

"Come," Azazel poked his head out of the smoking hole and bade them to follow. "Might as well go through, since Scott was nice enough to make us  _door_." Scott opened his mouth to protest but Azazel help up his hand, silencing him.

Whenever possible, Azazel had gone ahead to scope out their path, although Kurt really  _disliked_  the red mutant's apparent fondness for popping out of things like walls or around corners.  _As if this whole situation wasn't scary enough_ , he frowned as he took Wanda's hand and helped her through the wreckage.

"Keep quiet, keep low, stay in shadows next to wall. Remember, if you see anyone, grab me or Kurt. Jean?" Azazel nodded to the telepath and she bit her lip, nodding back in reply. The only really plan they devised was that if the group ran into soldiers, they'd keep quiet while Jean made them appear invisible, thus allowing Kurt or Azazel to teleport them somewhere safer if needed. So far they'd only been spotted once, and thankfully Azazel overpowered the guards quickly and Jean quickly wiped their minds, but the encounter still rattled the combat-inexperienced teens.

On the other side of the broken wall was a long, dark hallway. Azazel took the lead and just behind him was Jean, followed by Kurt and Wanda while Scott brought up the rear. Azazel guessed their friends were contained somewhere in the center of the compound. Azazel seemed very familiar with the layout of these types of military bases, although why the man knew so much about the architecture of  _American military structures_ , Kurt wasn't sure he wanted to know. So far, the rescue mission wasn't actually too bad, as long as the indigo teen fought the urge to scream every second. He was trying his hardest to be strong for himself and for Wanda (and, maybe a small part of him wanted to be strong to impress his father, too).

The group came to a fork at the end of the hallway, making them halt while Azazel considered the best direction. Suddenly, Scott cocked his head.

"Do you guys hear that?" He whispered nervously. Kurt concentrated for a few seconds before he heard it too: the unmistakable sound boots striking metal. The marching feet and their owners seemed to be moving rather fast towards their location.

"This way!" Azazel ushered the teens quickly down the left hall.

"How could they know where we are?" Wanda asked fearfully as she jogged alongside Jean.

"My telepathy only works on  _human_  perception," Jean grimaced and pointed up. A small camera swiveled, tracking their flight through the corridor. "Telepathy can't fool  _technology_." The group came to a skidding halt when they reached a large door. Azazel peeked through the window and grabbed Jean and Kurt's hands and Scott and Wanda followed suit. The group appeared on the other side of the door and dropped to a low run.

"They might also have machines to read body heat," Azazel added, "have seen before with comrade who could make self invisible."

"You know someone who can be  _invisible?!_ " Kurt exclaimed loudly. "Wow! That's so..."

Azazel shot Kurt a sharp look and he held up his hands, bowing his head impishly. He didn't want to disappoint Azazel, or get in any  _more_  trouble. Before he could mumble his apology, a small metal canister pinged its way down the hallway, stopping just a few feet away from Kurt. He scarcely had time to register what it was before a tremendous noise and incredible heat knocked him violently backwards. Kurt hit the wall hard and felt the tiles collapsing rapidly beneath his feet. He tried teleporting, but couldn't see where he was going and ended-up hitting another wall. He fell for what felt like two stories before he was able to see just enough to teleport himself safely to the ground. He still landed hard and for a second, Kurt saw stars. He recovered just in time to cover his head with his arms as debris from the grenade crashed all around him.

Once the wreckage stopped raining down, Kurt groaned quietly as he propped himself up by his elbows. There were pieces of building on his legs and tail, but thankfully, nothing felt broken. He coughed as he inhaled the thick dust hanging in the air all around him, and he heard a rustling movement to his left.

" _Hello...?_ " He choked out, praying that Azazel or one of his friends would answer. When the dust finally cleared, however, Kurt knew things had gone from  _bad_  to  _worse_.

For the second time that day, the indigo teen found a gun pointed at him; the only difference was that this time the soldier didn't hesitate before pulling the trigger.


	35. Showtime

The trapeze was always Kurt's  _most favorite_  act in the entire Munich Circus. When he was a little boy, he adored cheering on the trapeze artists as they flew through the air and marveling at their vibrant, sparkling costumes as they performed flips and tricks overhead. For years Kurt  _begged_  Mama Margali to let him try the trapeze, and on his seventh birthday she  _finally_  relented. During his first flight, Kurt promptly fell and his tail ripped right through the safety net, but despite the resulting broken wrist and tears, it was too late: Kurt had been absolutely  _hooked_  by the feeling of soaring through the air like an angel flying through Heaven. Encouraged by his circus family (and eventually wearing down Mama Margali again), Kurt was back on the trapeze shortly after his wrist healed. This time he proved a natural aptitude for the act, and when his ability to teleport manifested, his built-in "safety net" allowed him to master complicated aerial feats and even choreograph daring new routines. Naturally, the Ringmaster was quick to capitalize on Kurt's talents, and  _The Incredible Nightcrawler_  soon became a headlining act for the little traveling show.

And right now - more than any other time in his seventeen years alive -  _The Incredible Nightcrawler_  had never been so happy to have been born  _mutant_  and to have grown-up in a  _circus_.

The instant the gun ignited, Kurt vanished and missed the fatal bullet by less than a second. He reappeared high above, his feet easily grasping the edges of the wrecked ceiling he'd crashed through moments before. Suspended upside-down, Kurt had the boon of being nearly invisible in the dark shadows and an excellent view of the room below ( _or, was it above?_  He briefly puzzled, since he was  _technically_  hanging by his feet). The teen counted four men in the room, two of which were soldiers (and thankfully, only one held a gun), while the others were dressed like Dr. McCoy on days he taught biology lab.  _They must be scientists or doctors,_  he reasoned, watching the foursome look around in wild confusion from his sudden disappearance. As Kurt wondered what they were up to, one of the scientist-doctors looked up and yelled before pointing directly at him, causing the armed soldier to swing his gun around.

Maybe it was vestigial anger from Raven's kidnapping, or fear from being separated from his friends, or the fact that  _three times now in one day a gun had been pointed at him when all he wanted to do was learn how to drive like a normal teenager_ , but at that very second, something inside Kurt  _snapped_. The indigo teen snarled, baring his fangs and feeling same animal rage flood his veins just like when he fought the angel in East Berlin.

_Showtime._

Kurt disappeared the instant the soldier fired, materializing behind him just as his toes touched the floor. He lashed his tail around the man's neck (just like he'd seen Azazel do) and squeezed tight (but not too tight,  _unlike_  what he'd seen Azazel), and lifted the man in the air. Using the momentum from his teleport he kicked off the ground just like he was leaping from the trapeze. Kurt twisted his body in mid-air and released his tail, whipping the solider toward the other military man before vanishing again. The two soldiers collided and their joint weight dashed them hard into the wall. They sunk to the floor in a tangled, unconscious heap. Kurt reappeared near enough to snatch the gun from the soldier's hands. He curled his tail around an overhead pipe and swung himself in an easy arc, tossing the weapon through the ceiling hole. The teen completed his rotation and gracefully dropped down into the room's center just in time to see a balled fist speeding towards his face. Kurt gasped and swiftly ducked; in some comedy of errors, the first scientist-doctor ended-up punching the second one Kurt didn't even realize was trying to attack him from behind. As the second man fell to his knees holding a bloody nose, the crouching teen swept the leg of the man who tried to punch him, just like Clarice had taught him. He then seized the fallen man by his ankles and teleported back to his upside-down position at the ceiling before dropping the scientist-doctor onto the other man. The force of the impact knocked both men out cold.

When Kurt finished, all four men lay on the ground unarmed and unconscious. He closed his eyes and placed a shaky hand over his heart as if trying to manually slow its racing, and he took a few gulping breaths. Only then did he feel the adrenaline in his blood begin to ebb.

"Did you do  _this_?" A familiar baritone echoed down causing Kurt's eyes to snap open.

" _Azazel?_ " He squinted hopefully through the hole in the ceiling. Sure enough, he could just make out a silhouette before Azazel revealed himself. The red man knelt at the hole's edge and surveyed the room below. Kurt could hear his heavy breathing and see his short sword was drawn. Even in the dim light, the teen realized the blade was dark and wet. Azazel turned back to Kurt and extended his free hand, which Kurt gratefully took and pulled himself up. As soon as he stood, Azazel dropped his sword and put both hands on Kurt's shoulders.

"Are you hurt  _mal'chik_?" He asked as he looked Kurt over. The teen shook his head  _nein_  but felt a pit forming in his stomach when he glanced around and realized it was  _only_  he and Azazel standing there.

"Where is everyone else? Are they...?" He hoped the warble in his voice wasn't too noticeable. "...Is everyone  _Ok?_ " To his immense relief, Azazel quickly nodded.

"The explosion knocked down the walls, causing us to be separated, and then I had to fight a few men on way here, but  _da_ ," Azazel confirmed, taking his hands off Kurt and retrieving his sword. "Everyone is together and unharmed. They had to run, but Jean was able to contact me. So," Azazel sheathed his weapon and waved for Kurt to follow, "we go to them."

"Can't you just teleport us there?" Kurt asked as he dusted off his soiled clothing. He really  _didn't_  feel like walking, but Azazel shook his head.

"I need a better picture of where we are going first so we  _nyet_  end-up inside  _wall_ ," Azazel lowered his voice and slipped into the shadows. "Is easier if we are closer and then Jean can show me a way."

"Has that ever happened to you? Getting stuck  _inside_  a wall?" Kurt whispered back, biting his lip as he fell in line behind Azazel. Accidentally appearing  _inside_  a wall was one of his  _biggest_  fears. To his surprised, Azazel chuckled.

"Once, but I was  _very little_ , and I will only say it was  _nyet_   _comfortable_." Then, Azazel stopped and glanced over his shoulder, giving Kurt a small, lopsided smile. "You did  _good_  back there,  _very_  good. Am  _proud_  of you, Kurt." At this admission, Kurt felt his own mouth curling into the same smile as Azazel turned back to take the lead again. The teen felt _much better_  now that he wasn't alone and that he knew the others were alright. And, he could tell Azazel's first instinct when he found him had been to  _hug_  him, even if the man ultimately showed restraint. It was the first time Kurt felt something like real, familial love pass between them, even though neither mutant had yet acknowledged their relationship.

Terrible circumstances or not, Kurt was suddenly glad he was there with his father. There was no one he'd rather be with just then.

* * *

Azazel couldn't help the small grin threatening to pull mouth into a full-on  _smile_  as he and Kurt moved clandestinely through the shadows. That was  _his boy_  who fought and defeated  _four_  adult men, two of which were trained soldiers and one of which was armed. Kurt hadn't even needed to use the dagger Azazel gave him. He couldn't wait to brag to Raven, once they were all together and somewhere safe. She was going to be so proud of  _their_  son, too. The red mutant was so damn relieved that Kurt was alive that their terrible circumstances suddenly didn't seem so terrible just then.

The earlier explosion took everyone by surprise and destroyed most of the hallway. The force of the blast knocked Azazel to the floor, causing him to briefly black out. When he revived, a pile of wreckage formed a barrier between him and the teens. Jean was able to reach him and communicate that she, Scott, and Wanda physically unharmed, although badly frightened. He felt momentary panic when she relayed that Kurt was not with them, but luckily, Jean could  _feel_  that Kurt was a few floors below. When the soldiers appeared, Azazel told Jean to run to somewhere safer and that he'd rendezvous with them as soon as possible. He wasn't going  _anywhere_  without getting Kurt first.

As the two mutants slipped though the corridor, Azazel's thoughts drifted back to his interactions with Jean; more specifically, to her ability to contact him so easily telepathically. The girl was  _powerful_ , much more than he realized. Of course, Jean had never used her mutation during fight training; it was a rule that students couldn't use their mutations since the entire point was to learn  _hand-to-hand_  combat skills. Now that Azazel was working with Jean's mutation, to say he was impressed with her was an understatement. The redhead seemed to have no trouble communicating with him despite the nuances of his mutation, which was often problematic for Charles. Even Emma Frost - one of the most powerful telepaths Azazel had ever known - complained of _headaches_  whenever she worked with him for long periods of time. Jean was also a powerful telekinetic, too. While it wasn't rare for an individual to have to have a secondary mutation, it was rare for both mutations to be as powerful as they were in Jean.

As Azazel wondered what other surprises the girl had in store, he heard faint sounds ahead. He stopped quickly and threw out his arm out protectively to shield Kurt. Thankfully the boy stopped and for once, didn't ask why. Azazel caught Kurt's eye and put a finger to his lips, motioning for silence. He drew his short sword and wiped the blade against his pant leg until the metal gleamed. Carefully, he held the the sword out at an angle, using it as a mirror to spy around the corner. Azazel frowned; the approaching situation did  _not_  look good.  _  
_

"Kurt?" He whispered quietly, withdrawing his blade and slinking back into the shadows.

" _Ja?_ "

"There are  _seven_  heavily armed men coming our way."

" _Sieben?!_ " The fear in his son's whisper was palpable, making Azazel's frown deepen. Part of him still felt that he should have taken the teens back to the school grounds as soon as the helicopter landed, but the scope of this rescue mission was too complex for him to manage alone. Green recruits or not, they were a  _team,_  and he needed the teens as much as they needed him.

"They do  _nyet_  know we are around corner, so we have surprise on our side," Azazel took a deep breath as the footsteps grew louder. Kurt wasn't going to like what he was about to say, but Azazel had no choice. "I will take care of these men, and you will stay here. You are to leave immediately if it goes badly. Contact Jean and..."

" _What?!_ " Kurt looked alarmed. " _Nein_ , I'm  _not_  leaving you!"

"Do  _nyet_  argue," Azazel tried to keep the pleading out of his voice. Or course he'd been proud of Kurt's resourcefulness, but what was coming around the pike wasn't four men with one gun; an armed  _platoon_  of heavily armed soldiers was an entirely different story. If they defeated a veteran KGB operative, Kurt wouldn't stand a  _chance,_ and there was  _no way_  he was going to risk Kurt's life. "Stay back, and run if you have no choice. There is no shame in staying alive."

"But..." Kurt shook his head. " _Nein!_  I can help, I can fight, I can..." Azazel interrupted by putting his hand on Kurt's cheek, tilting the boy's face so their eyes locked.

"Do this for me,  _please?_ " Kurt opened his mouth to protest but seemed to reconsider. Instead, the boy surprised him by reaching up and laying his own hand over Azazel's.

"Just don't get hurt,  _Ok_?" Kurt squeezed his hand tightly. "I don't want to have to rescue  _you_ , too." Azazel almost laughed as he took his hand away. He motioned once more for Kurt to stay put, and taking a deep breath, he drew his sword before vanishing in a cloud of fire.

* * *

"Something's  _wrong_ ," Moira repeated, a deep frown etched into her features as she stared up at tower window with crossed arms. About twenty minutes prior all the soldiers grabbed weapons and seemed to vacate the area. During their mad dash, someone accidentally punched the intercom, filling the electrified cage with the ear-splitting soundtrack to the sirens and a fearful cry:  _"...apon X has escap...!"_ before silence descended again. Even Stryker looked badly shaken as he all but fled his post. Shortly after their captors disappeared, a thick spray of something viscous  _(blood,_ thought Raven) splattered across the tower window, causing the four captives to scream and shrink back, as if they had anywhere to hide. For the briefest second, Raven  _swore_  she saw something that looked like a man in a metal helmet holding knives appear in the window, but whomever (or,  _whatever_ ) it was, it vanished before she could get a good look.

The warning alarms continued to flash silently above, washing the captives' faces in red light as they helpless stared, watching and waiting for something - for  _anything_ \- to transpire. For all intents and purposes, it appeared they'd been completely  _abandoned_.

 _And no one knows we're here_ , Raven thought glumly.  _If something happened and all those men are dead, who is going to let us out of here before we die from thirst?_  Next to her, Peter shrugged his off his silver coat, letting it fall to the floor. The boy had the same deep frown as Moira as he stood itching his arm and looking up at the window.

"Ok, if I can  _just_  reach that window," Peter announced, "I can vibrate the glass enough to break it, and then we can zip outta of here. I smashed glass like that once in a super prison and it worked like a charm. But, how do I get up there?"

"I'm sure I can toss you that high," Hank suggested, but Peter shook his head.

" _Nah_ brah, it'll take me a full minute to vibrate the glass, and to that, I gotta be  _standing still_. So no throwing,  _and_  I can't just run up the walls." Peter was silent for a moment before snapping his fingers. "Ok, what if we formed like a human - e _r,_  I guess human- _mutant?_ \- ladder up to the window?" _  
_

"The walls are still electrified," Moira motioned with her chin to the neon green bars encircling them. "Only Hank is strong enough to hold you up without having to lean against the walls, and the two of you won't be tall enough to reach the glass."

"Peter, why are you rubbing your arm?" Raven interrupted, arching her eyebrow. The speedster hadn't once stopped touching his forearm since removing his coat. There was something about his fidgeting that seemed  _off_.

"I  _dunno,_ " the speedster shrugged. "It just started itching like crazy, like I have a bug bite or allergies, which is weird because there's no bugs in here I don't have any allergies. Well, except to  _nickle_. I'm mildly allergic to that."

" _Nickle?_  The  _metal_ nickle?" Raven almost laughed when Peter nodded.  _What are the odds of_ Magneto's _son having a common metal allergy?_ The blue woman walked to Peter and grabbed his wrist. She turned his arm over, and his ivory skin was marred with bright pink streaks where he'd been itching it. Suddenly, a tiny red light blinked  _underneath_  his skin, causing Raven to loudly gasp.

" _What the...?_ " Peter jerked back and held his arm in front of his face. He scrunched his nose as he stared hard at his arm. The pale light blink again and Peter jumped back and grew visibly panicked. " _What_... _what_  the  _hell_  is  _that?!_ "

" _Shit,_  I have one too!" Raven turned to see Moira pointing at her left arm, her blazer now discarded to the floor. Sure enough, a pale light flashed just beneath her skin. Raven glanced down her left arm, but her sapphire scales made it impossible to see anything beneath her skin, just like Hank's fur. She looked-up and caught the blue man's eye, nodding towards Peter.

"Hank, think you can...?" She started, but he was already was already approaching the speedster. He carefully examined the muted light under the boy's skin for a few seconds.

"I can," Hank nodded, "but I'll have to use my  _claws_."

"Wait,  _what?_   _Claws?"_  Peter's pale eyes grew fearfully wide and he pulled his arm away quickly. "Use your claws for  _what?_ " The leonine mutant smiled to reassure him.  _Maybe not the best idea_ , thought Raven as she watched Peter's eyes travel to Hank's now exposed  _fangs_.

"Calm down, Peter; it'll just pinch for a  _second_ , and then..."

" _No, no no no, nope! Not gonna happen, sorry-not-sorry!_ " The speedster on the other side of the room and clutching his arm tightly against his body before Hank finished. Thinking fast, Raven whistled for Peter's attention as shifted her skin. Now Clarice stood in the room, smiling and waving flirtatiously at a frightened Peter.

"Oh come on,  _Quicksilver_ ," Raven purred in Clarice's silky voice, "do it for me?"

"Raven, are you  _serious?_ " Peter rolled his eyes before sticking his tongue out. " _First_ , you got her accent totally wrong.  _Second_ , you forgot about the scar on her left arm. _Third_ , did you  _really think_  I was going to fall for _that?_  I know it's you,  _duh!_  We're the only ones in here!"

"No, you  _idiot_ ," Raven scoffed as flipped back into her natural skin and crossed her arms. "I didn't think you'd  _fall_  for it, but I  _did_  think you'd be  _distracted_  by it."

" _Distracted_...?  _Oww!_ " Peter shrieked and Hank pulled away quickly, now cradling something t in his palm. Blood trickled down Peter's arm in tiny rivets. The incision wasn't deep, but he was bleeding more than expected. Peter's face grew pale as he watched his blood drip onto the floor.

" _I don't like blood,_ " the speedster whispered, suddenly looking rather unsteady on his feet.  _Oh, shit._ Raven quickly grabbed the youth before he keeled over.  _  
_

"Give me your shirt," she commanded as she helped him sit. The last thing they needed right now was for Peter to fall and get a concussion. Behind her Raven heard Moira suck in her breath sharply through her teeth. _Two down, two to go._

"Dude, this is my  _favorite_  Rush shirt!" The speedster knelled. Raven rolled her eyes and grabbed the bottom of Peter's shirt. Jerking the fabric hard, she ripped it cleanly up the front.

" _Was_  your favorite Rush shirt," the blue woman corrected. She continued to tear the fabric into strips while Peter moaned. Raven wasn't trying to be mean, but his shirt was the only viable option for bandages: the blue woman didn't actually wear clothing, Hank's clothing wasn't as hygienic due to his fur, and she wasn't about to ask Moira to walk around half-naked (even if she secretly suspected Peter and Hank might not exactly protest that option... _men_ ). At least he didn't fight as she secured a bandage around his arm. She grabbed his coat and handed it to him. When the blue woman turned around, Moira and Hank were holding their own wounds. She tied their bandages and Hank tied hers after he cut open her arm.

"What are they?" Raven puzzled as she examined the small blinking objects in the palm of Hank's hand. The looked like little metal chips, which explained Peter's allergic reaction if they contained nickle.

"My God! They're  _tracking chips!_ " Moira exclaimed as she poked one gingerly. "I haven't seen one of these in ages."

"What's a tracking chip?" Peter asked. He looked miserable, but now that his arm was concealed, at least he no longer looked like he was going to faint.

"They're basically little computers that connect to satellites and track where the object or person who's carrying them is currently located and where they've been," the agent explained. "They were developed by the Russians in the '60s and the CIA stole the technology in the mid-70s."

" _Russians_?" Raven raised an eyebrow and looked imploringly at Moira.

"Yes, the  _Russians_  - more specifically, the  _KGB_  - used these tracking chips to target enemies," Moira shrugged. "Basically, a handler would chip a person - usually a young kid, those  _sick assholes_  - and place the chipped person somewhere for their intended target to find. Ideally, the target would bring the chipped person back to a hideout or a safe house - unaware of course that they brought a beacon into their midst - and then the KGB would track the chips and tip off rival gangs and sometimes even American forces. It was _win-win_  as far as the KGB was concerned: they'd charge large sums of money to provide the intelligence to the tracking chip, and they didn't take blame or do the dirty work to wipe out an operative or an entire cell that had become  _problematic_. They could simply track to the chip then sell the information; meanwhile all their problems would get taken out in a surprise attack or a raid."

Raven's cried out as her hands darted to her face. She stared wide-eyed at Moira.

"Raven?" She vaguely registered Hank's concerned voice. "Are you Ok?"

 _"...or a raid..."_ The agent's voice echoed in her mind and she took a step away shaking her head. _  
_

"Hey, watch it!" Peter complained as Raven stumbled over him. She looked down at Peter's annoyed face as he glared at her.

 _"...you forgot about the scar on her left arm..."_ She heard his voice again as she sank to her knees.

 _Clarice has a scar on her left arm, right where our tracking chips were inserted._ Raven remembered it now from night the girl surprised her in the kitchen. It was the same scar Moira and Peter would now carry on their left arms. Clarice had that scar because... _because she'd been chipped!_ The realization hit her like a hard slap to the face. _Clarice been chipped by the KGB and planted in Kyzyl for us to find! The entire raid had been a set-up from the second they were assigned the job._ The blue woman felt her lower lip tremble as it all came rushing back.

The KGB never did warm-up to having her in their ranks, nor did they take it lightly that Azazel  _married_  Raven without getting their official permission first. His KGB bosses always treated Raven like a vexing distraction for one of their most prized assassins. How easy would it have been for them to plant some no-name mutant child like Clarice for them to find, to organize a raid and kill a few expendable operatives, and then blame Azazel's little  _American wife_  for the entire fiasco afterwards? To falsify Azazel's death and make sure Raven found the photos so she wouldn't come back for him? To lie to Azazel and turn him against her with fake files that claimed she worked for the American government and had been using him all along?

 _Everything they took from us_ , Raven unconsciously touched her stomach as she thought of Kurt. She found out she was pregnant just _two weeks_  after the raid; if she had known beforehand, Azazel would have followed her, even if the KGB tried to convince him she was a trader. They'd been denied the right to raise their son; Kurt had been denied the right to be loved by his parents; they'd been denied the right to be a family. All because of the KGB, who lied to and manipulated everyone, and all for what? To keep Azazel on a short leash by erasing Raven from his life because she served them no purpose. Raven knew the truth now because of these tracking chips; stolen Russian technology used on them by the United States military.

Suddenly, it was like the air had gone out of the room.

"Raven?" The blue woman flinched when she felt on her shoulder. At some point, she must have fallen or sat down because she was suddenly the floor, looking up at Moira's concerned face through her tear-filled eyes. The agent squeezed her shoulder gently. "Are you alright?"

"If we make it out of here," Raven whispered, put her hand over Moira's as she stifled a sob. "There's something I need you to do for me."

* * *

Kurt instantly recognized the sound of Azazel appearing around the corner; the noises that followed could only be described as sheer  _chaos_.

The indigo teen flattened himself against the wall. When the guns burst to life, he could see the light flashing around the corner from the bullets, and occasionally he could hear screams when Azazel's blades hit their mark. From the little he'd seen, Kurt knew Azazel was a force to be reckoned with, but part of him still worried.  _Seven_  armed soldiers seemed like a daunting challenge for anyone to face alone; he really felt like he should be  _helping_  instead of hanging back, but he was trying his best to honor Azazel's request to stay out of it. He'd been surprised by the man's intimate gesture when touching his face; in all the time he'd known Azazel, the man was rarely openly affectionate, even around Clarice. Kurt had surprised himself by reciprocating so easily. He'd been on the verge of spilling it too -  _"Just don't get hurt Ok, dad?" -_ had been on the tip of his tongue. He wanted so  _badly_  to say it too, after all the uncertainty of the day.

As Kurt hid in the shadows, a soldier suddenly stumbled out in his hallway. The man clutched his arm to his torso, and a trail of blood marked his path. The teen hunkered down and watched the man pull his side arm. He turned back to the direction he'd come, and cocking his gun, he took aim.

Without thinking, Kurt snapped into action. He rushed out of the shadows and tackled the man. The gun fired but the bullet went wayward, shooting up into the ceiling. Kurt easily wrestled the man to the ground; he was too injured and too startled by by Kurt's sudden attack to effectively counter. The teen pulled his arm back and punched the soldier hard with the palm of his hand, just like Azazel had shown them. Sure enough, the man dropped like a sack of bricks. Kurt glanced over his shoulder and saw Azazel fighting three soldiers at once. Between him and the red mutant, the hallway was littered with bodies (Kurt tried  _not_  to notice how much blood seemed to be splashed around the narrow space). He spotted Azazel's short sword laying on the ground next to one of the bodies, alongside the gun he'd seen tucked into Azazel's belt. Then, another soldier pulled his sidearm and pointed at Azazel while he was fighting off two men.

" _Look out!_ " Kurt yelled as he appeared just behind the man threatening Azazel. Using his tail, Kurt pulled the soldier's the feet out from underneath him as the teen pushed him forward, causing him to stumble violently. Azazel turned and expertly threw one of his smaller blades at the man Kurt disabled, pinning him to the wall by a blade through the palm of his hand. The soldier screamed and dropped his gun as he instinctively grabbed at the blade. Kurt wanted to cheer, but the relief was short-lived.

" _Kurt!_ " The red mutant yelled angrily as he twisted to the side, narrowly missing a punch. He grabbed the soldier nearest to him and dropped the man's back over his knee. The soldier screamed as Kurt grimaced. "Get back,  _now!_ "

Kurt started to protest but was interrupted by another solder rushing him, teleporting swiftly to avoid a knee to his stomach. As he vanished, he seized the man's jacket and made a series of rapid teleports around the hallway. After five jumps, the soldier became severely disoriented, and before he could shake it off, Kurt tossed him into the wall. The man melted to the floor and did not get up again.

 _Not too bad._  Kurt almost smiled, realizing how much fight training had really paid off. There were only two soldiers left in the hallway. He didn't feel helpless like that one time at the mall fighting those jerks who...

Stars suddenly erupted across Kurt's field of vision. He stumbled backwards and tripped over a body, ultimately slipping in slick pool of blood and losing his footing. The teen crashed to the floor hard and his hands went instinctively to where he'd been punched. Dazed, he looked up to see a solider staring down with a cruel smile on his face. Behind them, Azazel struggled viciously against the the last man. Kurt was in immediate danger, but he felt was too disoriented to teleport. Thinking quickly, he reached for his dagger, but it was... _missing?_

"Looking for this,  _freak?_ " The soldier held up Azazel's dagger, clearly snatched from Kurt's arm during the attack. He then flipped it around and brought the blade down hard. Kurt cringed and threw up his hands defensively, even though him knew it was useless against the weapon. Just as he was sure the blade would stab into him, he heard the soldier cry out. The teen opened his eyes and saw Azazel pulling a blade out of the man's back and kick him away. The soldier Azazel had been fighting lay on the ground behind them, motionless.

"Kurt," Azazel reached down for him, "are you...?"

The red mutant was distracted just long enough for the soldier to whip around and plunge the dagger into his chest.

* * *

The pain was explosive, to say the least.

Blackness temporary washed over Azazel's vision as the blade bit into him, forcing him backwards and away from Kurt. He clenched his jaw as he grabbed the hilt of the blade with both hands, pushing it back to prevent it from piercing deeper. The man twisted the knife slightly and Azazel saw stars and his hands shook violently as he fought back with all his strength. He felt his feet slipping on the slick floor until the soldier pinned him against the far wall. Azazel bared his teeth, growling; he and the man were nearly eye-to-eye, each man struggling for his life.

Azazel's tail was trapped between the wall and his leg and he was losing ground fast. The only real luck he had was at the last second, he had turned his shoulder just enough to direct the knife into muscle and away from any fatal targets. If he could just defeat this last man, he could extract the knife with little serious damage; he should be able to staunch the bleeding and he and Kurt could get on with their escape to find the others.

That's when Azazel heard the distinct click of a cocked gun.

The red mutant had just enough time to glance down and see that - almost  _impossibly_  - soldier had pulled his sidearm and held it just inches over Azazel's heart. The red mutant's pale eyes grew wide and then...

...the sound of the firing gun was deafening.

* * *


	36. Lost & Found

Azazel had been shot exactly three times in his life: once during training as a youth, once because of Raven, and once simply because he was an idiot. The first time he was just teen and he made the near-fatal mistake of mouthing off to one of his trainers - a grizzled old bitch who he was convinced  _delighted_  in tormenting her students. As soon as the words left his mouth, the old soldier sneered, pulled her  _Makarov_ , and proceeded to shoot his right arm. She then made a wounded Azazel fight against another trainee until he collapsed from blood loss. Needless to say, he  _never_  talked back to her again (and honestly, he still credits that woman as the reason why he's taciturn in group situations). He was shot a second time when storming the CIA compound to free Emma Frost. It was the first official mission of the newly formed Brotherhood, and unknown to Azazel, it was only Raven's  _second_  time in the field, and her  _first_  time infiltrating a military facility. When the blue girl panicked under gunfire, he just barely managed to teleport her to safety. Unfortunately, when he materialized to grab Raven, he appeared between her and a bullet; even worse, the bullet struck him right in his backside. Azazel wasn't sure what hurt more: Magento using his mutation to fish the bullet out of his flesh or his pride, since he was the only one to be injured (and, it didn't exactly help that as Magneto worked, Azazel had to brace himself against a table with his pants half down while Janos and Angel hollered with laughter). He'd been mad at Raven for an entire  _week_  afterwards, and only relented when she made him entire home-cooked lasagna as a peace offering. The last time Azazel was shot it was because of something so  _stupid_  he almost deserved it: Clarice had just given him Plan B and within twenty minutes of owning the gun, Azazel managed to shoot himself in the foot when he forgot to lock its safety. After making sure he wasn't badly hurt, Clarice spent the rest of the evening snickering (and occasionally, she still liked to point out that the scar on his foot looked ironically like the letter "C").

So, when the soldier cocked his gun, Azazel unfortunately knew  _exactly_ what kind of pain to expect. Just before it discharged, there was a tremendous rushing noise in his ears like he was underwater; he felt on the verge of screaming knowing that - if the bullet did indeed pierce his  _heart_  - he'd have just a few seconds left.  _Just enough time to grab Kurt_ , the red man steeled himself for the coming pain,  _just enough time to take him somewhere safe_. Azazel couldn't do anything for the others, but with his last breath, he could at least save his  _son_.

The gun fired, he closed his eyes, and then...

... _Nothing_?

Azazel slowly blinked his eyes open. He was still in the hallway, he was still standing, he was still pinned against the wall and locked in a struggle, but outside of the searing agony in his shoulder, he didn't actually  _feel_  any additional pain. He glanced down to see the soldier's gun still pointed at him, but he couldn't see any blood or a wound on his chest. He looked up and into the soldier's eyes; oddly, the man's expression was one of  _surprise_ , and not the jeering triumphant displayed seconds prior. Rallying his strength, Azazel growled and he shoved the man away. The soldier released the knife's hilt without fight as he stumbled a few paces backwards.

 _Something isn't right._ The thought came to Azazel as he pulled the knife from his shoulder. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he pressed his hand firmly against his wound, staunching its bleeding. He let the knife clatter to the floor as he watched the soldier sway slightly. Azazel was perplexed as to why  _he_  wasn't dead. He'd heard the gun go off, and the man couldn't have missed him at such a short range. The soldier looked up at Azazel and opened his mouth almost as if to ask a question. The red mutant made a face as instead, a thin red bubble formed over the man's parted lips. It was only then Azazel realized that a thick swath of crimson was growing across the soldier's chest like a deadly flower blooming. Seconds later the man's eyes rolled back and he dropped to the floor like a rag-doll _, dead.  
_

A flicker of movement caught Azazel's attention, making him turn away from the soldier's body. Now that his view was no longer blocked, he realized that Kurt was standing across the hallway facing him. In his outstretched hands he clutched Plan B like a crucifix warding away evil. The boy was shaking like a leaf and the weapon was fixed on where the soldier once stood.

"He would  _have_...he  _was_...he..." Kurt choked. A thin curl of smoke slithered from Plan B's barrel, and a numbness fell over Azazel as all the dominoes fell neatly into place. "...He was going to  _kill_  you."

At his whispered omission, Kurt's golden eyes alighted on his own hands, growing wide as he seemed to realize for the first time that he did indeed just  _shoot_ someone. The teen gasped and threw the gun down, recoiling as if it had burned his skin. His hands darted to the sides of his face as he started to hyperventilate. In his haste, Kurt stumbled backwards, tripping over the body of another slain man.

Instantly, Azazel appeared next to him. The red man felt light-headed even from the short teleport (using his mutation while injured was far more taxing), but he couldn't afford waste one second, not after what just transpired. He seized Kurt quickly to prevent his fall.

"You are  _alright_ ," he said calmly, squeezing Kurt's shoulders reassuringly. The boy looked up at him, his eyes growing thick with tears.

"He was going to  _kill_  you," Kurt repeated in a pleading tone almost as if trying to convince Azazel that he had no other choice  _but_  to shoot the man. Azazel could easily see that really, Kurt was just trying to convince  _himself_.

" _Da_ , he was going to kill me," Azazel agreed, "but then you  _saved_  me. Do you understand?  _You_  saved my life Kurt. You did  _right_  thing." The boy nodded, even as his lower lip started trembling. Seconds later, hot tears began slipping down Kurt's face and his breath came hard and fast. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Azazel pulled Kurt to him, wrapping his arms securely around the boy. Kurt then broke down completely, sobbing as he hugged Azazel fiercely. The red mutant put his chin on top Kurt's head and let him cry, murmuring repeatedly that Kurt was alright. He could feel the boy's entire body trembling, and for this, Azazel was almost  _glad_ ; he didn't want Kurt to be a killer. He wanted Kurt to hold on to his sweetness and innocence as long as possible. Azazel wanted his son to be free of the cruel demands forced onto his parents' lives.

"Come, we can  _nyet_ stay here," Azazel pulled back when Kurt's tears began to lessen. He rubbed the boy's arm encouragingly. "We must keep moving."

Kurt sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. When he faced Azazel again, there was an emptiness in his eyes, a lost look that made the red man frown.  _He's just in shock_ , Azazel consoled himself, feeling a rush of empathy. Lord knows Azazel had been in shock the first time he'd actually killed someone. Of course, he hadn't been given a  _hug_  afterwards. At fifteen years old, he'd been given a slap on a back, a few stitches in his face, and a pack of cigarettes. Later that night he'd wanted to cry, but he didn't dare shed any tears; he'd have been beaten by the other recruits if he showed any emotion. Azazel never wanted that for Kurt, and he did his best to shelter Clarice from hardening herself like he was forced to, making sure she'd never actually killed anyone. Thinking quickly, the red man's eyes drifted to the beaded necklace encircling Kurt's neck.

"Here," Azazel lifted the chain gently until rosary's crucifix emerged. He then took one of Kurt's hands and closed it around the pendant. Kurt glanced down and turned the little cross over in his fingers, frowning.

"You had  _nyet_  choice Kurt." Azazel pointed at the necklace, "so ask your God to forgive you. I think he will understand." Kurt swallowed hard and nodded. He made a fist around the rosary and held it over his heart. Azazel then took Kurt's other hand and started guiding him down the hallway once again.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name..." The cadence of Kurt's voice was soothing as they slipped back into the shadows. For a few seconds, Azazel almost started to believe he could be forgiven, too.

* * *

_**Grounds of the Former Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, New York** _

"Well, this is  _shitshow_ ," Clarice surmised as she stood on the school foundation's precipice, her hands on her hips and her lips pursed as she surveyed the ruined building. She wasn't even sure  _where_  to begin.

"Hey, over here!" A voice cried out in the distance. Clarice shaded her eyes as she scanned the wreckage. She quickly spotted Jubilee's telltale canary coat, and nearby with his arms tightly crossed stood Lucas, Jubilee's savaging partner. The Chinese girl was jumping up and down and waving excitedly. "I think I found the kitchen!"

"Hang on!" Clarice yelled back, cupping her hands around her mouth. The last thing she needed was for Jubilee or Lucas to fall and get hurt, or  _worse_ ; accidentally trigger explosion with Jubilee's fireworks or Lucas's energy blasts. The entire broken building was riddled with live wires, leaking pipes, and busted gas lines. It was a recipe for another disaster if the group wasn't extra careful.

"Hey James?" Clarice addressed the young man standing behind her as she pulled two crystals from the air. She tossed the crystals to him, and he caught them effortlessly with one hand. "Think you can toss these all the way to Jubilee and Lucas?"

"You can call me  _Warpath_ ," he corrected, smiling brightly as he brushed his long brain over one shoulder. "Everyone else does. And sure, piece of cake. Watch this:  _Jubilee! Bishop! Catch!_ " The Apache youth lobbed the crystals with ease. They each made a perfect arc before landing neatly in Jubilee and Lucas's outstretched hands.

"Use those like I showed you if you think you're going to fall, Ok?" Clarice yelled back.

"Aye-aye, Captain!" Lucas answered and Jubilee gave a thumb's up.

Clarice nodded to James; even at fourteen, the boy's mutation was powerful, giving him superhuman strength, speed, and sight, all of which were reasons why Jubilee asked him to help scavenge for supplies. James's powers would be a boon for any heavy lifting, just as Lucas's ability to absorb energy would come in handy if they accidentally triggered another explosion. And of course, both James and Lucas were avid attendees of Azazel's fight training class; a definite plus if those military assholes returned unexpectedly (not to mention that James's super sight would spot any approaching danger miles away).

Clarice watched as the teens picked their way through the still smoking debris. Once she was sure they were being safe, she motioned for James to resume searching. While the others sought for non-perishable food, Clarice and James were seeking the school's infirmary (or more appropriately, where it had once been). While those left behind were  _lucky_  - there were only a handful of injuries and nothing dire - any medical supplies they could bring back would helpful.

Clarice waded carefully through a collapsed classroom. It had been a few hours since the military evacuated, taking several captives and a few stowaways along for the ride. Part of her was still angry that Azazel left her behind, but another part of her was worried sick for the inexperienced students self-appointed to the rescue mission. She paused to adjust the sword strapped to her side, sighing loudly as she thought about her friends and family in peril. She just had to trust that Big Brother knew what he was doing demanding she stay, even if that was really, really,  _really_  hard for her right now.

* * *

As soon as the last military vehicle disappeared on the horizon, Clarice waited five full minutes before teleporting to the ground. She moved quickly towards remaining students but covered her tracks just in case it was a trap. All told, there were probably fifty individuals left behind, and about twelve were fairly young children. Once Clarice as was satisfied she wasn't walking into a set-up, she attempted to rouse a few teachers and older students. Thankfully, Jubilee was one of the first to recover, and while the others sat up dazed and confused, the Chinese girl wasted no time taking charge.

"Listen up everybody," Jubilee commanded as she dusted off her soiled clothing. "We can't stay here; it's not safe. There's a small lake about a mile walk east, and there are a few cabins along its shore. The cabins are pretty basic, but they have food, water, warm beds, and most importantly, Dr. McCoy programmed a decoy shield around the area to keep it hidden outsiders. It's a designated safe haven, and I have the code to get us in."

"How do you know all this?" Clarice raised an eyebrow as she sheathed Azazel's sword. Now that the military threat was at bay, she didn't need her weapon drawn.

"Because I'm  _Class President_ , that's why," Jubilee shot back, smirking playfully. "The Professor entrusted me with this information just in case something happened, and I don't mean to disappoint him."

While Jubilee helped rouse her peers, Clarice quickly partnered each younger student with an older one in a buddy-system to ensure that the littlest ones didn't get lost or left behind. Several of the children were too young to walk the full distance to the safe haven, and stronger students like Lucas and James were pressed into service to give piggyback rides to keep the group moving (although truth be told, the older students all seemed to enjoy suddenly being big brother or sisters). Danielle Moonstar took the infant Bert, and when they were ready to start moving, Luna practically leaped in Clarice's arms.

"Where's Peter Pan?" Luna asked as Clarice balanced the girl on her hip, wrapping her arms securely around her tiny body.

"Peter went on...um, a little  _trip_ ," Clarice smiled and tried to keep the worry from her voice. She doubted it mattered, seeing how the little girl could  _see_  emotions.

" _Trip_?" Luna's hazel eyes grew wide as the word resonated. "Like, to  _Neverland_?"

"Yes,  _exactly!_ " Clarice smiled wider, summoning all her happy thoughts so her 'colors' wouldn't betray her words. Luna studied her face as carefully as a three-year-old could. "Peter's going to hang out with the Lost Boys, and then they'll outwit Captain Hook and that clever crocodile; what's his name?"

"Tick-Tock!" Luna sang the animal's name and giggled.

"That's right! Tick-tock, the mean old' Croc!" Clarice laughed. After a few seconds however, Luna frowned as she looked in the air around Clarice and the other students.

"Everyone's  _scared_ ," Luna whispered, tears clouding her eyes. "I'm  _scared_. I wanna go  _home!_ "

"You know what Luna? I have something for you. A  _surprise!_ " Clarice stopped and fished in her pocket with her free hand. She couldn't bare the thought of Luna frightened and crying because of her own worry and fears. A few seconds later, Clarice produced a small silver locket on worn chain, and dangled it in front of the little girl. Luna gasped and reached for it. Clarice smiled and slipped it over Luna's head. She'd found the necklace in the trampled grass right where Raven, Peter, and the others had fallen. Inside the locket were portraits of two people she didn't recognize, although oddly, there was something about the black and white photographs that looked strangely  _familiar_.

"S'pretty!" Luna smiled happily as she touched the delicate pendant.

"I need you to keep that safe for me until we find its owner, alright?" Luna nodded so solemnly that Clarice couldn't help but chuckle. She supposed a student must have lost it during the chaos of the explosion, but she figured it wouldn't hurt to let Luna wear it for a few hours until she located its rightful owner. The little girl laid her head against Clarice's shoulder and starting humming  _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star_  as she played with the necklace and Clarice's braid.

Clarice clenched her teeth, suddenly finding herself blinking back tears. It took all of her strength not to breakdown as she was reminded of Tuan and how he used to carry her around when she was no older than Luna. Clarice wondered if Kurt was alright, and if Azazel had found Raven yet. Part of her wished desperately to know if Peter was unharmed. At least she was able to take comfort in the knowledge that Peter was probably thinking about her as much as she was thinking about him, and that Azazel promised to bring them all home safely. She had to trust in Azazel as much as she'd trusted in Tuan.  _  
_

* * *

The cabins were exactly where Jubilee said, and they were relatively well stocked. They at least had enough beds for all students as long as the little ones bunked up. After settling everyone and taking a short break to rest and refuel, Jubilee and Clarice formed a search party to scavenge the school grounds, leaving Danielle in charge until they returned.

At present, Clarice nudged a small pile of rubble with her foot. Underneath she found a scotched copy of Treasure Island. She picked up the tome and shook it, frowning when a few burned pages tumbled out.

"I think we found the library!" James assessed brightly, pointing at the damaged book. "Maybe a couple books survived? We could bring them back to read to the kids. You know, keep them entertained?"

"That's a  _great_  idea Ja...er,  _Warpath_ ," Clarice smiled and teenager beamed.  _These kids and their code names_ , Clarice mused. If she wasn't careful, she'd begin to sound like Azazel. "You search around here. I'll start canvasing nearby. Call me if you find anything, and be careful!"

A few moments later, Clarice found what looked to be the remains of the girl's dormitory. She startled slightly when she recognized the pair shoes she borrowed from Jean for her date with Peter; shoes she had left that morning at the foot of her own bed.  _Is my room somewhere around here? If it is, then maybe_...Clarice looked around excitedly, smiling as she recognized a few more personal items. As she scoured the area, a flash of silver caught her eye. She moved closer and saw a sword hilt buried in the debris. Her hands darted to her mouth in surprise. It appeared she'd miraculously found her katana, and it even looked like it might in one piece. Clarice rushed forward and...

...there was a sudden snapping as the boards under her feet crumbled. Before she could even scream, Clarice tumbled down into the school's subbasement.

" _Clarice?!_  Are you Ok?"

She groaned as she sat up, holding her head. When she looked up through the dust, Clarice saw the silhouette of James about two stories above.

"I'm fine," she responded quickly, coughing. "I just hurt my  _pride_  is all." By some small miracle, a burned mattress broke her fall. Clarice carefully inventoried her body. Everything was in working order and nothing felt broken, although she was sure she'd have a nice bruise on her ass where she landed. She looked up again. _I probably have to throw two crystals just to get back up_. As she plotted her route topside, a small pile of debris next to her left foot pushed towards her.

 _What the hell?!_  Clarice recoiled, spooked from the mysterious movement. As she stared at the rubble, she heard what sounded like...a _groan?_  Clarice scrambled to her hands and knees and quickly pushed some bricks out of the way. Suddenly a hand flopped out and grabbed hers tightly. It took every fiber of her being to  _not_  scream as if one of Kurt's beloved movie-monsters just grabbed her.  _It's always the ethnics who die first in those cheesy movies,_ Clarice thought as she suddenly became very aware of how  _Vietnamese_  she was. The hand relaxed its grip and a muffled voice groaned again, pulling Clarice back to reality.

" _Shit!_  Hang on!" Clarice started aggressively pulling debris away from around the hand.

"What's going on?!" James called down but Clarice ignored him. She pulled away a few more bricks; sure enough, she could see that a  _man_  was indeed trapped under part of the building. He blinked at her, and his eyes seemed impossibly blue against the backdrop of soot masking his face.

"It's Ok," Clarice unscrewed her canteen and held it out for him.

" _...ott?"_ The figure blinked rapidly, ignoring the canteen and struggling to sit up. "...Is he Ok?"

"Easy, easy there," Clarice held up her hands. The young man sucked in a sharp breath, putting a hand on his ribs. "You're banged-up pretty bad. Let's start slowly. Can you move your legs?"

"Yeah, I think..." He winced as she pushed the final bits of debris off his legs. "I can move my legs, but I think my arm is broken." Clarice nodded as she looked him over. She could see second-degree burns on his chest and shoulder, and his hair was singed almost to his scalp on one side. The good news was that he could indeed move his arms and legs, although one arm did appear fractured. She held out her canteen again and this time he took it with his good hand and drank greedily.

"You're one lucky  _son-of-a-bitch_ , you know that?" Clarice mused to herself in her native Russian as he gulped down water. "Not too fast buddy," she switched to English as the man coughed, and sputtered water all over his chest. He wiped his mouth and looked at her imploringly.

"Did he make it out?" He asked, this time grabbing her arm and squeezing tightly. She flinched at the sudden touch, but managed to stay calm. "My _brother?_ "

"How about we get  _you_  out of here first," Clarice started to help him stand. If he was going to grab her, she might as well use it to her advantage. "Then we can figure out who..."

"Clarice? What's going on down there?" When Clarice glanced up, she saw Jubilee now next to James, and both staring down concerned. The girls' eyes went wide when she saw Clarice's injured companion. "Oh my God!  _Alex?!_ "

"Is Scott...?" Alex pleaded again to anyone who'd listen.

"Yes, Scott is  _alive,_ " Clarice nodded as Alex's identity as Scott's brother clicked. The blonde eased his grip on her, and Clarice relaxed. "Some military  _dicks_  showed up, drugged and kidnapped a few people, and Scott took off on a helicopter with his friends to go rescue them."

"To  _what?_ " Alex looked at her in alarm.

"To rescue them," Clarice repeated, frowning. She didn't think it sounded any more confident the second time.

"But he can't...he's only...he's..." Alex faltered, looking imploringly at Clarice.  _He's too young, too inexperienced, too much my family_...a million reasons ran though Clarice's head just then to finish Alex's sentence; too many of them the exact thoughts she had about Kurt being on the helicopter.

"Scott's with Azazel and Jean, if that matters," she said as she helped steady Alex. "And, they're going to rescue Mystique, Dr. McCoy, and Agent MacTaggert, if it makes you feel any better. He'll have all those people watching his back, so don't worry. Scott's  _fine_." Clarice left out mentioning Kurt, Wanda, and Peter, unsure if their presence would be a boon or a concern to Alex.

"What happened to Charles? And what about that big blue asshole? And that  _traitor_  Erik? Did they...?"

"Slow down; we're still working on all that," Clarice reassured. Part of her was curious about the animosity Alex lobbed at Peter's biological father, but right now wasn't the time to ask Alex about their history. "Come on, baby-steps. Let's start by getting us out of here."

"How are we going to get out?" Alex looked up, frowning at the distance.

"Oh honey," Clarice smirked as she pulled a crystal out of the air. "That's the least of our concerns. We just need... _ahhh!_ " Clarice suddenly covered her ears as a voice cut loudly through her thoughts like a knife.

**"Hear me, inhabitants of this world. This is a message. A message to every man, woman, and mutant..."**

_It's...the Professor? The Professor's speaking to me_ , Clarice realized, blinking in alarm. It  _was_  his voice, but his words sounded forced and wrong as they echoed in her head. Panicked, she looked at Alex and then up at Jubilee, and realized with a growing dread that they could hear him, too.

_What the fuck is going on?_

* * *

_**Outskirts of Cairo, Egypt - Banks of the River Nile** _

The desert air burned Charles's lungs with every ragged breath he drew. His lips were cracked and bleeding from the dry heat, and he felt embarrassingly feeble laying on the scorching rock. The glanced over again at his wheelchair, frowning; Hank had designed it especially for his needs, yet now the chair lay in the sand as mangled and useless as Charles's legs. The sun beat down on him as if he was in hell.

Which, in many ways, he was.

 _Erik,_  Charles reached out, trying again to reason with his friend. He saw Erik's mouth twitch into a slight scowl before he turned his back to Charles.  _Erik, please listen to..._

" _Stop_  it, Charles!" Erik snarled, causing the other mutants to glance at the pair. Charles ignored them and kept focusing on Erik. He put his fingers to his temple and reached out, and felt...

_...Nothing?_

Charles's periwinkle eyes turned towards En Sabah Nur as the blue man approached. He stopped a few feet away from the telepath and gazed down silently, his cruel mouth curled in a sneer.

"You're  _blocking_  me," Charles narrowed his eyes. "How are you doing this?" He didn't bother trying to communicate telepathically. The man wasn't  _worth_  using his mutation.

"I can shield their minds from your power," En Sabah Nur responded. "It's one of the many gifts I have  _acquired_  through out the millennia. But to see  _inside_  a mind and  _control_  it? That's  _your_  gift," the blue man smiled wickedly, crossing his arms. "You saw into my mind, didn't you? You saw the glory of what's to come."

Charles turned away in disgust. He had briefly seen En Sabah Nur's vision for a better world, and the telepath wanted no part of it. Frankly, he didn't want to ever see in that monster's mind again.  _I have to get Erik on my side_ , Charles thought. He needed an ally against En Sabah Nur's power, and Erik was his best hope. He still believed his friend could be saved.

"Are you going to take part in all this killing? All this destruction?" Charles reasoned.

"It's all I ever known," Erik responded quietly, refusing to meet his eyes.

"No, it  _isn't_ ," the telepath pleaded firmly. "Erik, you've just  _forgotten_ , you've..."

"No Charles, I  _remember_ ," Erik whipped around, staring down defiantly. "I remember  _everything,_ and I  _tried_. God knows I  _tried_. Your way doesn't work."

"I have shown him a  _better_  way, a  _better_  world..." En Sabah Nur started.

" _No_ , you didn't show him  _anything!_ You just tapped into his  _rage_  and  _pain!_ " Charles hissed at the blue man, refusing to let him continue. The telepath pointed to the other mutants present. "You tapped into all their rage and pain! That's all you've done!"

"Charles, don't..." Erik held out his hand.

"I told you from the moment I met you that there's  _more_  to you, Erik," he turned to his friend. "There is  _good_  in you. I still believe this."

"Whatever you think you saw in me Charles, I  _buried_  it," Erik said coldly, clenching his hand into a fist. "I buried it with my  _family_."

"Charles, you will send a message to every living mind," En Sabah Nur interrupted, ignoring the heated exchange. "You will tell them that this Earth will be laid waste. That it is I, En Sabah Nur, who wreak this upon them."

"Even if I  _wanted_  to - which I do  _not_ ,  _thank you_  - I couldn't reach  _that_  many people all at once," Charles answered curtly. "I don't have Cerebro. It's destroyed, remember?"

"You don't need a machine to amplify your powers," En Sabah Nur held his arms open wide. "You have me."

He started to argue but suddenly paused. A plan was taking shape in his mind. It was dangerous, it was unlikely, and it was the longest shot in the world, but it if worked... _it just might save the world,_ Charles realized with dawning clarity. Swallowing hard, he looked at the blue man and nodded, fighting the urge to vomit when the man smiled back.

 **"Hear me, inhabitants of this world..."**  Charles closed his eyes and relayed the message verbatim across time and space. When En Sabah Nur neared the end of his message, Charles concentrated. He only had one shot to do this secretly while the blue man was distracted with his diabolical words.

"To tell the strongest among you, those with the greatest power, that this earth will be yours," En Sabah Nur's voice purred treacherously.

 **"...to tell those with the greatest power..."**  Charles opened his eyes and glared defiantly at his captor.  **"...protect those without."**

 _That's my message to the world_ , Charles spoke directly into En Sabah Nur's mind. The blue man shook his head in disgust and turned away. He started to weave a psionic shield to collect Charles and his horsemen and start their final journey to the temple. Charles took a deep breath as he felt the sand slipping away from underneath his body, and he prayed that his secret message was delivered:

**...To tell the strongest among you...**

_Jean, if you can hear me, focus on my voice. Cairo. Find us._

**...those with the greatest power...**

_Jean, hurry._

**_...protect..._ **

_Cairo._

**_...those..._ **

_Find._

**_...without..._ **

_Us._


	37. The Saviors

_**Secret Military Base, Undisclosed Location, United States of America** _

"I think," Jean looked up, hope flashing in her cerulean eyes for the first time. "I know where we can find the Professor!"

The five mutants had reunited and at present, Azazel was permitting them a brief rest in what looked suspiciously like an actual office break room. The small area contained a table and a kitchenette, a coffee station, and a half-empty vending machine. A row of monitors hung along the far wall. Scott was glued to the monitors, watching rotating images what Azazel guessed to be surveillance scenes from around the compound. The room was easy enough for Jean to secure with a few telepathic barriers (not that they'd seen anyone  _alive_  on the way there), and it provided some audio relief from the blaring alarms in the hallways. The room's most important feature, however, was its working sink. Wanda snatched several glasses from the cabinets and passed them out to each mutant. With one well-placed kick, Scott shattered the vending machine's glass (much to Kurt's mild embarrassment, as he'd just asked if anyone had quarters) and deposited an armful of cheap snacks on the table. While the group recuperated, Jean filled them in on Charles's secret message woven into the frightening words that echoed inside their minds not long ago.

* * *

In the end, Azazel didn't even need to teleport to find the others; he and Kurt simply followed an ominous trail of dead that ended in a containment lab where the teens were hiding. Scott quickly explained that they'd found another mutant who, upon his accidental release, proceeded to immediately and utterly  _destroy_  any military support who'd crossed his path. According to the teen, the violent mutant had been trapped in a cage and "looked all kinds of messed-up." Thankfully, Jean convinced him to leave them alone before he embarked on his bloody rampage. Azazel stroked his beard thoughtfully as he listened to the wild tale. He suspected Jean's group had found and freed an  _experiment_ , although he didn't say so out loud; he didn't want to frighten the teens any further.

 _Whoever he was_ , Azazel's gaze lingered to the path of death and destruction as they slipped out of the lab,  _we're staying the fuck away from him_. The mystery mutant's victims looked like they'd been torn apart with teeth and claws; powerful telepath among them or not, Azazel felt that Jean's group was damn lucky  _they_  didn't meet the same fate. He'd seen firsthand mutants mutilated in the name of  _science_ , and afterwards those tortured souls were often unable to distinguish between friend or foe. One of the rare times Azazel had ever officially "lost it" (as the kids would say) was the night in 65' when he found Angel's body at a Spanish research facility. The poor girl had been hacked to pieces, and her beautiful gossamer wings torn from her body. He never did find Janos, but he did find his friend's name logged into an autopsy record along with Angel's and 13 other murdered souls. His mission had been to recover a certain set of files from the facility, but as soon as he and his comrade Neena secured the necessary information, they then slaughtered every single human they found before burning the facility to the ground. While both operatives were reprimanded for their excessive use of force, the punishment had been worth it. Azazel's only solace was that Raven hadn't been feeling well so Neena had taken her place on the mission; he was grateful that she never saw with her own eyes what those monsters had done to their friends.

* * *

At present, Jean finished speaking, and the only sound in the room was the occasional tearing of a wrapper and chewing. Azazel looked over each of the teens, thankful they were unharmed and grateful for an opportunity to sit down and properly tend to his stab wound. When his gaze reached Kurt, he lingered. Kurt sat on the floor against the wall, his hands folded in his lap around his rosary and his head tilted back. His eyes were closed and his tail was curled around his right leg, its spade twitching occasionally as the beads slipped through his fingers. Kurt appeared more alert and less shell-shocked, and there was definitely more color in his cheeks. Azazel hoped that the earlier events were starting to fade, not that he thought the boy would (or,  _could_ ) forget what happened. As soon as they had a private moment, he planned to speak with Kurt and to reassure him again. He'd been worried when the boy seemed stiff and robotic when Wanda hugged him as they reunited, but he felt relief when Kurt seemed to perk-up as Scott told them about the  _experiment_. After hearing his friends' brush with death and danger, Azazel hoped Kurt wasn't feeling so alone in the day's trials.

"I can help you with that."

A lilting voice interrupted Azazel's thoughts. He glanced up to find Wanda standing in front of him. She smiled meekly and motioned to his shoulder. During their run, Azazel created a makeshift bandage by bunching a portion of his shirt against the wound. Just a few minutes ago, he'd shrugged off his jacket, sucking his breath through his teeth sharply as he peeled the fabric away. It had bonded to his skin with dried blood, and a fresh rivet began to seep as soon as he'd started to clean it.

"You know how to make stitches?" As self-sufficient as he was, Azazel realized it'd be easier if someone could help him sew the wound closed with their two hands instead of his one.

"Ah...  _no_ , not  _technically_ ," Wanda shrugged, "but for the last few weeks the Professor and I have been experimenting with my mutation, and I can kinda fix things like your injury if I concentrate hard enough. I'd like to help, if I can."

Azazel looked impassively into her silver eyes, fighting the urge to frown. He didn't like the sound of "kinda fix," but at the same time, he suddenly felt mildly embarrassed that he didn't actually know  _what_  Wanda's mutation was. He's once seen her discharge energy from her fingers similar to Jubilee, but he didn't know what that energy did. Azazel looked again at his shoulder. The puncture was deep and bleeding more than he'd like; he had to do something more permanent soon or he'd risk passing out from blood loss or not being able to accurately teleport for a few hours. With a resigned sigh, he removed the cloth and motioned for Wanda to approach. She eagerly placed one palm just over the wound and her other on his shoulder behind it, applying gentle pressure on both sides. From the corner of his eye, Azazel saw both Kurt and Jean curiously observing the girl's actions. Only Scott ignored them as he continued to watch at the monitors.

"Ok, this might  _sting_ a little," Wanda said, taking a deep breath. A faint red light began to glow around her hands. Azazel had been on the verge of inquiring what  _exactly_ , might sting, when a white-hot, blinding pain shot through every fiber of his being. For a brief second, his entire body jerked like he was having a seizure, and the only thing that prevented his fall to the floor was his involuntary clutching of the chair's arms.

"There! All done!" Wanda took a few steps back, wringing her hands . Thankfully, the heat and pain receded as soon as she removed her hands. "Um... how do you  _feel?_ "

Azazel clenched his jaw, taking a several deep breaths through as he prayed for the room to stop spinning. He felt like he was going to throw up, and a faint charred smell hung in the air, like seared meat at bar-barque. Kurt and Jean had jumped to their feet and now stood next to Wanda, both examining Azazel's shoulder. He looked again at his wound but was surprised to see smooth, slightly more pale skin surrounding it, almost like a mild burn. The injury no longer seemed to be bleeding; in fact, outside of a small puckered scar, the entire injury seemed to be... _gone_?

"What did you  _do?_ " Azazel rotated his shoulder, astonished. Everything felt fine, abet a little sore, like any recovering injury would feel. The girl hadn't just cauterized the wound; she'd made it so the wound wasn't there at all.

"I put a  _hex_  on it!" Wanda beamed as she walked to the sink to rinse the blood off her hands. "The Professor and I figured out that if I concentrate my powers, I can make things go back to the way they were, or I can make things turn inside-out. Your injury was the most advanced thing I've healed successfully!"

"Wow, that's so cool!" Jean closer in to admire Wanda's work.

"Thank... you..." Azazel forced a grateful smile even as he felt mildly horrified by the consequences of "make things turn inside-out" and "successfully." He suddenly felt  _extremely lucky_  and made a mental note not to let Wanda touch anyone else until she had more practice.

"Hey, the scar kinda looks like the letter 'K' now!" Kurt pointed out helpfully as Azazel started buttoning his shirt. "K for Kurt!"

 _"Fantastika,"_ Azazel grumbled under his breath. Apparently he was a walking fucking  _alphabet_  of healed injuries.

"Oh my  _God!_ " Scott leaped to his feet, jabbing excitedly at the monitor bank. "Guys!  _Look!_  It's  _them!_ "

The team quickly assembled around Scott; sure enough, their four comrades appeared on the bottom left screen, trapped in some kind of circular cage. Azazel noted at the time stamp on the bottom of the screen and glanced at the room's clock. The time synced, indicating the image was current and that wherever they were, they four were still alive.

"What the  _hell_ is up with Dr. McCoy?!" Scott frowned. While Raven wore her blonde disguise and Peter and Moira appeared as normal, Azazel could see there was definitely something  _wrong_  with the scientist.

"I think he's  _supposed_  to look like that," Kurt offered. "I heard him and Raven talking about both being blue - well, actually talking about both  _not_  being blue, anymore at least - on my first day at school."

 _Blue fur...? Ah shit!_  Azazel's eyes went wide when it finally clicked who Dr. McCoy  _really_  was; the last time Azazel had seen the leonine mutant, he'd tried to ram his spade through the man's eye.  _Well_ , he reasoned,  _at least now I suppose we're even now for what happened in The Danger Room._

"Can you reach them?" Wanda asked Jean as she reached out and touched the screen where her brother stood.

"No, there seems to be some kind of barrier," the redhead admitted. "Honestly, I've been trying to reach them since we arrived, but I haven't had any luck."

"Look at the green lights surrounding them!" Kurt tapped on the screen. "See? They look just like the bars on the helicopter. Jean, I bet that's why you can't talk to them."

"Look for signs, clues as to how we find them," Azazel instructed, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the entire monitor bank. There had to be  _something_ ,  _somewhere_ , that would lead them to their comrades.

" _There!_ " Scott snapped his fingers seconds later and pointed. "Look at the sign! Jean? Wanda? Didn't we run past something like that going to the lab?"

" _Yes!_ " Wanda chimed in, her silver eyes flashing with recognition. "I remember seeing that!"

"Can you lead us back...?" But Wanda was already running to the door, waving excitedly for the team to follow. With that, Azazel found himself shepherding the teens once again as they ran into the heart of the complex.

* * *

Raven's frown set harder as her eyes searched the watch tower window for what felt like the thousandth time. At least thirty minutes had elapsed since they'd seen even a glimmer of movement beyond the blood streaked glass.

At this point, it really was starting to look like they would need a  _miracle_  to save them.

" _So_... " Peter's voice cut through the thick silence like a knife, "anyone else got a brilliant idea on how we're going to escape? Because, now's really the time to share with the rest of the class!" Raven cast her eyes down, unable to look at the speedster, let alone answer his question. She knew Peter was trying to make a joke, but she could hear the very real fear creeping into his voice. Raven was afraid that if she spoke, she wouldn't be able to hide her fear either. She glanced over at Hank, but her friend was staring at the ground, looking rather defeated.

 _Think Raven; think!_  She bit her bottom lip and nervously fiddled with the bandage on her arm. Her throat felt parched and her head was starting to ache. She couldn't remember the last time she'd drank water, and after Peter's secret Twinkies, they didn't have any more food. The blue woman remembered reading once that the human body could last four weeks without food, but only four days without water.  _It's only a matter of time before we starve or die of thirst._

Time was staring to run out.

" _Oh!_ " Moira suddenly burst to life, startling Raven from her dire thoughts. The agent pointed excitedly, seeming at a loss for words.

"Yeah  _Brah!_   _Here!_  Down  _here!_ " Peter jumped in the air, waving his arms madly, as if trying to flag down a plane. Even Hank was now looking up and smiling. She turned to the source of their unexpected excitement and felt her skin ripple involuntarily. She covered her mouth with both hands as she looked back to the window.

It seemed that miracle they needed had finally arrived; Raven just never expected it to be in the form of her  _son_.

* * *

"Over here! I found them!" Kurt yelled as he leaned over the control panel to better see.  _Eins, zwei, drei, vier... that's everyone!_  He counted, satisfied everyone was indeed present. He smiled wide enough to show all his fangs as he waved down at the now joyous captives. Soon, his entire team was crowded around and patting him on the back.  _Finally,_ Kurt thought with relief, _something has gone really right_.

To say it had been a  _difficult_  day was a severe understatement. Kurt thanked God for so many things that happened in last thirty minutes. He thanked God that Azazel didn't judge him for breaking down in tears, and that he'd held Kurt's hand on their search for the others. At first Kurt felt childish - he was  _seventeen_ , not  _seven_  - but whenever Kurt stumbled or his voice wavered as he prayed, the red man squeezed his hand reassuringly, giving him the resilience to keep moving. There was a gentleness in Azazel that Kurt hadn't expected since The Danger Room; Kurt was beginning to realize that despite his reserved nature and questionable past, his father was proving to be a rather complex individual.

Kurt thanked God too that they found the others quickly and unharmed, and he thanked God  _especially_  for Jean. One of the only reasons why Kurt was still functioning was because of the young telepath.

 _What happened?_  Jean's voice echoed in Kurt's mind as the group sat in the rest area. She knew something was wrong the moment they reunited. Kurt tilted his head back and pretended to pray while he concentrated on his memories of shooting the man who tried to kill Azazel.  _I'm going to take the pain away,_ Jean's voice was soothing.  _I won't make your memory go away, but I can make it so it doesn't bother you as much, at least until we get back home.  
_

As she spoke, Kurt felt a weight lifting from his shoulders. He still knew he'd shot a man, and he knew that man was dead, but the event had faded in his mind as if it happened long ago. His heart didn't feel so heavy, and he felt like he could even smile again. When he turned to thank her, for a second, Kurt saw Jean's eyes glow brightly as if they were on fire. She blinked quickly and when Kurt looked again, Jean's eyes were their normal deep blue. Kurt wondered if his own eyes had played a trick on him, even though he still felt unsettled. Jean smiled sadly and turned to talk to Scott. It struck him just how  _good_  Scott was doing for someone who lost his brother and best friend only a few hours ago. The indigo teen suddenly wondered how much pain Jean absorbed from them all that day just to keep the team moving forward. He wondered where she kept that pain so it didn't destroy her.

But right now, Kurt banished these thoughts as he watched the captives explode with happiness. Only Raven stood perfectly still, her hands pressed to her face in shock. As Kurt looked down at his  _mother_  - his beautiful,  _blue_  mother - he felt a hand slide onto his shoulder. Azazel stood next to him, but the man's focus was solely on Raven, and her focus was on Azazel; an expression of relief and something deeper, something Kurt desperately hoped was  _love_ , mirrored on both of their faces. Kurt felt a small smile twitch on his own face. He couldn't  _wait_  to see his parents together at last.

"Why can't we hear them?" Scott tilted his head as he waved at the group below. Until he mentioned it, Kurt didn't realize that he couldn't hear the shouts of joy beyond the glass.

"I think the room's soundproofed," Jean guessed as she put her fingers to her temple. "And I  _still_  can't get through the barrier, even this close."

"There's gotta be an intercom somewhere," Wanda said and began searching the control panel.

"If there's a barrier, how do we get them out?" Kurt looked at Azazel. "Can you teleport inside?" The indigo teen instantly recognized the neon green bars illuminating the walls of the cage. He still hurt from his failed attempts to teleport out of the electrified helicopter (and, from falling two stories in an explosion; and, from fighting four adult men; and, from tripping over two dead bodies, not that he was  _keeping track_  or anything). He released Kurt's shoulder and vanished. Kurt excitedly turned back to the widow, but a heartbeat later, he heard Azazel reappear.

" _Nyet_ ," the red mutant scowled, his nostrils flaring. "Electric field is too strong. I cannot penetrate it."

"Well, sounds like  _someone_  needs to make a  _door_ ," Scott smirked triumphantly, tapping the side of his glasses.

"There is a door behind those bars," Kurt motioned to the left side of the cage below. "Scott, do you think you can blast it open?"

"Easy, but they're going to need to stay back so they don't get hit. How are we going to tell them to...?"

" _Hello?_ " Wanda said loudly into a mic. "Can anyone hear me?" The four captives started nodding, but their voices remained silenced. Wanda frowned, tapping on the mic. "I don't understand. This says 'intercom'..."

"Here, flip the receiver toggle," Jean leaned over and punched a button next to the mic.

"... _anaconda!_ " Peter's voice echoed in the room.

"Hey, Mr. A?" Scott asked. "Think you can get Jean and I down a level so we're on the other side of that door?" Azazel disappeared only to reappear a few seconds later.

" _Da_ , it only electric on inside of door. Easy to appear on outside."

"Awesome," Scott linked arms with Jean and took Azazel's outstretched hand. He then turned to Kurt and Wanda. "Here's the plan: Wanda, when we're in place, Jean's going to start a countdown in your thoughts from ten. You or Kurt get on the horn and tell everyone down there to stand as far away from that door as possible, Ok? Kurt, once you see that door open and they're free, you teleport with Wanda and join us."

" _Ja_ ," Kurt agreed and nodded vigorously. For the first time that day, it sounded like their team had an actual plan that didn't involve completely winging it. Even Azazel looked impressed with Scott's quick thinking as the trio vanished.

"Ok, Jean says they're in place," Wanda punched the intercom.

"Hello? Can everyone hear me?" Kurt cleared his throat. All four pairs of eyes alighted on him.  _I will take that as a yes,_ he thought. "Um, we will count to five and then Scott is going to blow open the door, so you need to stand far away,  _ja?_ "

"She's counting now!" Wanda said. "Tell them to stand back!"

"Ok, here goes! Stand back!" Kurt held up a hand in the window to help illustrate. "Eins... zwei... drei..." Kurt looked at his hand and frowned. He forgot he never really visually counted on his fingers, since he only had...

The explosion rocked the room, making even Wanda and Kurt quake stumble and grab the control panel. As the dust cleared, they saw a gaping hole and the captives start to file out. Wanda seized Kurt's arm, and the two appeared instantly in the midst of their friends.

"Hey! Watch out!" Scott ducked to the side, narrowly missing Kurt landing in his lap.

" _Entschuldigung_!" Kurt grimaced and held up his hands apologetically. He was still trying to master teleporting into places he couldn't actually see, and he didn't quite have the same finesse as Azazel.

But right now, none of that mattered as Raven emerged from the cage, smiling brightly as she waved away dust between her and Azazel. He remembered how Azazel curled his tail around Raven's wrist on the plane, and he'd seen how the two looked at each other through the window just moments ago. The indigo teen had waited so long to see his parents reunite, and now that moment was finally here. He was was over the moon with anticipation, knowing they would now finally have the chance to hug or kiss or engage in some other grand romantic gesture that would validate that they still loved each other, and that at the end of the day, the three of them could unite as a real family.

"Well," Raven stopped in front of Azazel, putting her hands on her hips and gazing up at him sweetly. Kurt clasped his hands together excitedly. "It sure the  _fuck_  took you long enough to get here."

Azazel smirked while Kurt frowned, but before anyone could respond, a silver blur collided with Azazel, knocking him a few ungraceful steps backwards.

" _Thank you thank you thank you thank you!_ " Peter yelled, hugging Azazel tightly. "Oh man! I thought we were going to  _die_  in there!"

" _Get. Off. Me._ " Azazel snarled and shoved Peter away. The oblivious speedster proceeded to speed hug each of the new arrivals, stopping only when he reached Wanda. For once, Peter was at a loss for words, and looked at his little sister like he was going to cry. Kurt smiled as Peter grabbed Wanda, spinning her around in the air as she shrieked happily and hugged him back fiercely.  _Well_ , he reasoned,  _at least one family gets to have a storybook reunion_.

"Witchy, mom's going to  _kill me_  when she finds out I let you come this field trip," Peter said as he put her down.

"What happened to your clothes?" The redhead cocked her head and pointed at Peter's naked chest.

"Raven tore my shirt off!" The speedster stated matter-of-fact. Several of the teens (and Azazel) looked quizzically at Raven.

"I'll explain  _later_ ," she mumbled, rolling her eyes. "First, we need to get moving."

"Right. Follow me!" Jean took Scott's hand and the pair started down the hallway, waving for everyone to follow. Peter looped one arm through Wanda's and the other through Kurt's, pulling them along for the ride.

* * *

When the wall fell and she finally saw her rescuers, Raven wanted nothing more than run to Azazel and throw her arms around him, but she held back, knowing restraint was in order. Only Moira knew about their real relationship, and they didn't need to cause any more drama for the day, especially not in front of Kurt.

The blue woman balked slightly when the teenagers took the lead, but she changed her tune when she saw Azazel fall following them without question. After a few minutes of silent running (passing a lot of mauled soldiers), the group entered a large military hanger.

Inside sat the most beautiful plane Raven had ever seen.

"Well, it looks like you got your  _warplane_  Hank," she nodded to the leonine mutant.

"We found this after we got split from you," Scott pointed at the plane and addressed the teleporters. "We figured it might come in handy to take us home."

"Or take us to Cairo," Jean corrected.

"Cairo?" Hank asked with an quirked eyebrow. Jean filled the captives in Charles's secret message. Raven scowled at the mention of her brother in the clutches of En Sabah Nur. She wasn't sure what was in store for him, but she knew they had to get to Egypt fast if hey had a chance at saving him.

"Wait, hold on," Moira put up her hands before pointing at Azazel. "Why can't you just take us to Cairo? I've know you can teleport with more than eight people, and it'd be faster than flying."

" _Da_ , it would faster and  _da_ , I can  _easily_  jump with more than eight," Raven rolled her eyes as Azazel seemed to puff out his chest a little, bragging about his mutation. "But, we  _nyet_  know what exactly is waiting in Cairo, and I have never been to the city, so is harder to know where is safe to appear. Would  _nyet_  be good idea for group this big to appear instantly in the middle of bad place, give away position."

"It's also better to approach slowly and get a feel for what we're getting into," Hank added. Azazel gave him a curt nod of agreement, and Raven heard Scott whisper something to Kurt that sounded like 's _ee, that's what I said in the car earlier_.' Raven reviewed Azazel's team; while they appeared thankfully uninjured, they were ragged and stressed. Judging by how torn and dirty their clothes were, she couldn't imagine what horrors they'd seen at the base during their rescue mission.

"If what Jean's told us is accurate - and we have no reason to believe it's not - then we have a few hours before En Sabah Nur and his cronies pose real danger to Charles," Raven assessed. "I think a few hours on a plane will do us all some good. It'll give us time to plan and time to get our energy back up before we confront those assholes."

"Fair enough," Moira conceded. "Hank, can you really fly this?"

"Yeah, I can fly this," the blue man nodded. "I just need a little time to review the controls, but it shouldn't be too different from the Blackbird. Um, that's a plane I designed," he clarified to Moira. Raven frowned; she still kept forgetting that Charles had wiped the women's memories of them and the incident in Cuba.

"How long?"

"Twenty minutes, tops. I just need..."

" _Sweet_ , check this out!" Peter was suddenly stood in the center of the group, holding his arms out wide. He was no longer shirtless; as a matter of fact, he was wearing a sleek, dark silver flight suit. The speedster started flexing for his audience. "Seriously, how cool do I look right now? On a scale from one to ten?"

"Where did you find that?" Wanda asked.

"In that closet over there," Peter pointed to the far side of the room. "There's like, a  _ton_  of them."

Raven sighed. It figured that Peter would be ransacking the room instead of listening to their plan. At least it seemed this time he made himself  _useful_.

"It's a Kevlar flight suit," Hank touched Peter's sleeve, admiring the fabric. "You know, it might be a good idea for everyone to wear one since we're headed into a possible combat situation."

"Alright," Raven nodded as she flipped her scales to be a mirror of the suit Peter wore. "Everyone grab a suit and get ready. We have twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes?" Scott asked. "Until what?"

"Twenty minutes," Peter snapped on his goggles and crossed his arms dramatically, "until we  _save the world!_ "

Raven put her hands over her face; it was going to be a  _long_  flight.


	38. Courage

Kurt did not like his Kevlar flight suit at _all._

 _Of course the girls make these things look fantastic,_ he moped as he watched Jean and Wanda chatting quietly nearby. Truthfully, Kurt thought Jean was pretty enough and Wanda so stunning that they could both make  _garbage bags_  look fantastic. Even the guys managed to look cool, whereas Kurt just felt  _awkward_. He was tall and lanky with an acrobat's build; he was strong, but he didn't have the muscles to show for it like Scott or even a more filled-out frame like Peter.  _And, having a tail doesn't exactly help._ His tail lashed of its own accord, as if irritated by its owner's disparaging thought. Thankfully Azazel was able to quickly cut and stitch impromptu tail slits into both their suits. Kurt was never very good at sewing due to his unique physiology and dexterity. Besides, whenever he needed his hand-me-downs or show costumes altered, he could always go to Mama Margali or another circus woman for help. Azazel was actually the first man Kurt had ever met who knew how to sew. He was impressed with how delft and sure Azazel was with a needle and thread, not to mention that the man always seemed to carry a small sewing kit with him. As Azazel fastened the last stitches into Kurt's suit, he reminded the teen that he was only good at sewing because he had to alter his own clothes for as long as he could remember, and besides, sewing cloth wasn't that much different from sewing up wounds. Kurt really didn't like the sound of that last part (and, he added it to his ever-growing list of questions for his parents when this little  _adventure_ was over).

As Kurt discreetly pulled down his flight suit from bunching up, a silver blur zipped by every few seconds, creating a steady breeze that ruffled his hair. Peter was using his last twenty minutes in a high-speed hunt for supplies. Within moments of Raven's decree, the speedster ran around the entire base and confirmed it was indeed devoid of military personnel. As Peter ran, Dr. McCoy rigged-up a simple radar system to alert the group if  _anything_  moved beyond the now sealed hanger doors, thus allowing a little safety while preparing for the flight to Cairo. Somewhere Peter had found water canteens, MREs, and miraculously, some soldier's discarded Walkman, and he was presently singing along to The Beatles' greatest hits as he loaded supplies on the plane. Ms. Agent MacTaggert had found a weapons locker which Raven quickly lock-picked (another frown and question Kurt added to his list). The agent was presently loading a weapons' bag with various guns and ammunition.

Kurt gazed up at the large silver plane in front of him and felt his stomach do several flip-flops. Flying in the helicopter was one thing, but he remembered how miserable the flight from Amsterdam to Washington had been. He'd also overheard Dr. McCoy tell Jean and Wanda that the flight to Cairo would take  _several hours_. The indigo teen really wasn't looking forward to flying again. He hated to burden her further, but part of Kurt desperately wanted to ask Jean if her telepathy could do anything for his terrible motion sickness. The thought of throwing-up in front of Wanda was more embarrassing than wearing his ill-fitting flight suit.

"This is _intense!_ " Scott suddenly appeared next to him and slapped Kurt on the back in comradery. Kurt was thrown off balance and took a wobbly step forward. Luckily, he recovered quickly and Scott didn't seem to notice as he stared up at the plane. Kurt thought his friend looked almost  _excited_ , a far cry from the fear gnawing at his own stomach. "Man, did you ever think in your wildest dreams that attending high school would end-up with us  _saving the world_?"

Kurt shook his head but remained silent. Saving the world was the last thing he thought he'd do when he arrived in America, even if he did technically arrive with  _Mystique the Hero_. He thought he'd improve his English, try both thin-crust and deep-dish pizza, maybe meet a movie star (they all lived in Hollywood, right?), and of course, get his high school diploma. But fly into battle on a stolen military jet to save the school's headmaster from the clutches of an evil super-villain?  _That certainly wasn't in the brochure_ , Kurt sighed. That sounded like the plot of some poorly drawn comic book, not real life.

 _How long has it been since I was in Germany, anyways?_ Kurt made a face as he counted.  _Was it really only 5 months?_  It seemed like a lifetime ago when all he had to worry about was choreographing his next trapeze act and picking out show costumes. And, even though he adored the Xavier School and all his new friends, in the last few weeks, Kurt had really started to feel homesick for his circus family. He had received a few sporadic phone calls and he wrote them a several letters, but it was really hard to post mail or make calls to gypsies who traveled via caravan. A few days ago Uncle Professor was kind enough to locate the Munich Circus using Cerebro, and through him, Kurt was able to talk to Mama Margali, Jamaine, and Stefan and tell them about his life in America. It felt  _so good_  to speak German to people who understood his accent and colloquialisms without question. He was careful to make sure not to accidentally divulge any secret information like the school's location, nor did he tell his circus family about Raven and Azazel, at least not yet.  _I wonder how my adoptive family will react to me having found my real parents?_

 _Speaking of_... Kurt looked around the hanger. Oddly, Raven and Azazel were missing. Just a few moment ago he'd briefly considered approaching them so he could get it off his chest that he knew who they were before they all boarded the plane to God-only-knows-what fate. At least in the hanger they could maybe have a private moment outside of earshot of the rest of the crew. With all the crazy events of the day so far, Kurt was really starting to doubt that his own shocking revelation would make it any crazier.

 _Huh_ , Kurt raised a curious eyebrow as he adjusted his suit again.  _I wonder where they could be?_

* * *

Raven bit back a moan and dug her fingers harder into Azazel's back as her body pounded rhythmically against the sink. She loved how it felt when he was inside her; almost a pulsing ache, unable to discern where one of them ended and the other began. She hadn't planned on fucking him in the bathroom, but of course, half of their entire relationship was based on not planning, and this past week specifically had been a wild ride of not really thinking beyond the next five minutes. Besides, he'd just started doing that thing with his fingers she  _really_  liked; how he remembered after seventeen years of how  _exactly_  to get her off was impressive. Given how dilated with lust his eyes were, Raven could tell the minute they embraced that he needed the stress relief as much as she did.

* * *

Ten minutes prior, Raven secretly slipped away to a bathroom Peter found during his flight. It was far enough away she wouldn't be disturbed, and close enough she could return quickly if Hank's alarm tripped anything. The blue woman really just needed a few minutes alone to process everything happening. When she bent over the sink to splash cold water on her face, her hands were trembling. It had been a long time since she felt guttural fear like this. She hated that Kurt was there, or any his schoolmates.  _Those kids are too green, too young, and in too much danger; they could have been killed._  The thought made her feel sick, and she thanked a God she no longer believed in that at least Azazel was there, guiding the teens so they weren't stumbling around blind in the dark. But still...

 _How could he let them come here?_  Raven leaned on the sink, questioning her reflection in the mirror. The glass was shattered and a hundred reflections stared back, each one seeming to question any of the hundreds of decisions she'd made in her own fractured life. The last time she truly felt this afraid was the morning she flew to Cuba; she and Hank were the only kids left from the original team, along with the adults Charles and Moira who led the charge.  _Now Hank and I are the adults leading the kids_. Raven suddenly saw so much Kurt reflected back in the broken mirror that she wanted to pound her fists and cry and the injustice of it all.

Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open. Raven's amber eyes met Azazel's ice blue ones in the mirror as he quietly shut and then locked the door. Neither uttered a word. Raven spun around and in two quick strides threw herself in his arms, and he dropped his flight suit on the ground.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she admitted quietly in Russian, pressing her face into his shirt. She had so desperately wanted this touch, this connection, when cage walls fell.

"I said I would follow you," he pressed his cheek against her forehead, holding her tightly.

"How could you let Kurt come with?" She pulled back slightly to look up at him. There was no accusation in her voice, but there was worry, which she knew Azazel could hear.

"It was more like  _he_  let  _me_  come with. That boy is brash and headstrong, but in his heart, he just wants to help, even when the odds are against him." The red man brushed Raven's hair back and tucked it behind her ear before tugging her earlobe affectionately. "I think he just has a  _good heart_ , like his mother."

"Or maybe he's just  _stubborn,_  like his father," she added with a quiet smirk.

"What happened?" Azazel nodded towards the bandage tied to her arm.

"It's...  _nothing_. I'll tell you later," Raven replied hesitantly. Now did not seem like the right time to deconstruct the '67 raid or the truth about those tracking chips; at least, not without Moira to express her side of the story. That little talk would have to wait for another day. Raven removed the bandage. Underneath, her skin had already healed almost perfectly.

She laid her head back on Azazel's chest, closing her eyes as a stray tear escaped. His fingers brushed it away before trailing down to her chin. He titled her face up and seconds later, she felt his lips brush against hers. Raven eagerly reciprocated, deepening their kiss. His hands dropped from her shoulders to her waist, pulling her flush against him. She felt herself being gently guided backwards until she stopped abruptly when she bumped into the sink's ledge. It was only when Azazel picked her up and placed her on the counter that his intentions became clear. Warning bells started sounding in Raven's head and she pulled back quickly, pushing him back with both hands on his chest.

"What the hell is  _wrong_  with you?" Raven frowned but Azazel's wolfish grin remained and his tail wagged playfully behind him. "Do you really think we're going to  _fuck_  in the bathroom of some secret military compound while our comrades  _hot wire_  a plane?" She shook her head incredulously. He threw back his head and laughed out loud.

"Now  _there's_  the girl I married," he retorted, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

It took Raven exactly three seconds to cave.

She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him passionately.  _He has to get into his flight suit anyways,_ she reasoned as she started to remove his clothing.  _  
_

"How much time do you think we have?" Azazel asked breathlessly as she pulled off his jacket and he started to unbutton his shirt.

"I'd say five minutes before someone realize we're both gone," Raven swiftly unlatched his belt, "ten tops before they start looking for us."

"I can work with that," he purred as his mouth trailed down to her collarbone.

" _Yeah_ , I remember from  _Moscow_ ," she snickered before she could help it. Azazel stopped and looked at her, frowning slightly.

"That happened  _once_ ," he narrowed his eyes and jabbed a finger at her.

"Shut up and  _fuck_  me," Raven laughed, wrapping her legs around his hips as she pulled him to her.

* * *

So, at present they were making the best of their stolen time before anyone realized they were missing.

* * *

_**Stolen Military Plane in Route to Cairo - 2 Hours Later** _

Azazel leaned against the cockpit door, holding two cups of coffee as he quietly watched Moira at the plane's controls. At present, Dr. McCoy was taking a short break to eat an MRE and sitting in the plane's rear next to Raven. In the plane's middle, Peter was keeping the teens entertained by preforming various tricks with a deck of cards he'd found (or  _attempting_ to preform tricks, from how many Azazel heard the girls laugh as Peter repeated ' _Is this your card? No? What about this one? No? Ok, this gotta be it!_ '). Azazel had to admit he was a touch impressed with how well the speedster was keeping the teens calm and taking their minds off the upcoming mission. The silver-haired boy had made himself useful in ways Azazel hadn't anticipated, not that this gave Peter an automatic  _pass i_ n his book. The speedster still had to prove he was  _worthy_  of Clarice's attention before Azazel would drop his guard.

The red mutant shifted his weight, frowning as he adjusted his flight suit. He didn't really want to wear it - he didn't like it at  _all_ \- but he felt it was important to the teens that he also matched the team. The only thing he liked about the flight suit was that Raven helped him get into it after their little tryst earlier. He hadn't planned for that to happen (honestly), but it also wasn't totally unexpected given their history. He'd seen Raven slip away as he finished stitching Kurt's suit and he secretly followed her. It would be the last time they'd have the opportunity for a few private moments together, and he truthfully, he'd just wanted to see her. He'd thought about Raven a lot over the last week. After he decided to track her from Moscow, he'd also decided that - if she agreed to give them another chance - that after they'd settled things with Kurt, he wanted to take her back to Tahiti for a little while. He'd be a fool to think they could just magically forget the last seventeen years hadn't happened and pick-up where they'd left off. There were logistics to discuss and other important issues to address. It would do them both good to spend time talking about these things (among other  _activities_ , of course). He'd also need to talk to Clarice and Charles, and discuss the possibly of them staying in the West, at least on a more permanent basis.

But right now, there was something else Azazel had to do; something he'd been thinking about since he'd vanished from the school grounds that day.

"I did  _nyet_  know you could fly plane, Agent MacTaggert." Moira didn't turn around, but Azazel saw her small smile reflected in the plane's window.

"I can't give up all my secrets,  _Ivarr_ ," she retorted. "All CIA trainees learn mandatory basic aviation and auto maintenance along with first aid and self-defense. Besides," Moira glanced over at him, "Hank put us on cruise control so this thing is practically flying itself. I really just have to keep the altitude steady and keep my eyes open."

"Here, perhaps this will help?" Azazel held out the second cup to her. The agent took it, looking suspiciously at the thick curl of steam spewing from the top. She sniffed it and looked up again, this time her hazel eyes were wide with surprise.

"Is this  _coffee_?" She asked as Azazel nodded. "Where the  _hell_  did you get  _hot_   _coffee_  from?"

"Thank the  _Maximoff Twins_ ," Azazel thumbed over his shoulder behind him. "Peter found coffee and Wanda heated it up with her hands."

" _Huh_ , multi-useful mutation," she looked into the cup and swirled the liquid. She then smirked and raised an eyebrow at him. "So, did you  _poison_  this?"

"Ah,  _damn!_ " He snapped his fingers and gave her a lopsided smiled. "I knew I forget something. Here, give it back, I fix." Moira rolled her eyes and chuckled before taking a sip.

"Actually, it's not too bad, for instant coffee." She motioned for Azazel to take a seat in the vacated pilot's chair. He settled himself, careful not to accidentally touch the controls. He crossed his legs and took a sip of his own drink as he faced her. "You know, this is a real change of pace after all these years."

"How long have you been on my case?" Azazel counted. "Ten years has it been, already?"

"Sounds about right. You know, it's  _funny_ ," Moira shifted slightly to face him. "When the director first handed me your file and I saw your photo, I had this moment of  _deja vu,_ almost like I knew you somehow. There were other odd moments too, like I wasn't surprised the first time I saw you teleport or even that you had bright red skin. It was like I had met you before, in a dream or something. And there are other little things that I can't quite place since I've been at Charles's school."

"Such as?"

"Such as the blue of Raven's scales, or that smile Charles gets when he makes a silly joke, and even Hank's fur when we woke-up in that cage... it's like I  _almost_  remember all of it, but I can't remember from where. It's been vexing me this past week."

The red mutant nodded and made a noncommittal noise. From the little Charles told him, Azazel knew Moira's memories of their time in Cuba had been locked away. He'd asked Charles a few days after Moira arrived why she didn't seem to remember the telepath or his sister. He vaguely remembered seeing Moira on the beach that fateful day, and Raven of course knew exactly who the woman was. He looked evenly into Moira's eyes as he contemplated this. He'd never actually been this close to her, not counting the one time he teleported her out of the burning warehouse. He already knew she was smart, but he'd never realized just how beautiful she was. He could easily see why Charles had fallen for her.

"You know what  _is_  funny?" He smiled and motioned between Moira and himself. "Us. Sitting here, talking like normal people. Almost like  _friends_."

" _Friends_ ," the agent laughed. "That's rich."

"I am  _almost_  starting to feel badly that I have to kill you when this is over," Azazel smirked playfully.

"Oh  _please_ ," she snickered. "We both know it's  _me_  who's going to kill  _you_."

"Care to make a wager on that?"

"No, because I'd feel bad taking your money," Moira snorted. "Plus, I can just take your wallet after I kill you anyways, so where's the sport?"

"This knife," Azazel laughed as he dug out his pocket knife, holding it up for her. "This is the knife I will kill you with."

"This bullet," Moira pulled her side arm and emptied one bullet into her palm, holding it up between two fingers. "This is the lucky bullet I will shoot you with."

At this point they were both laughing out loud and on the verge of hysterics.

"You are  _nyet_  so bad, MacTaggert," Azazel put down his knife to wipe a tear off his face from laughing. Then, he extended his free hand towards her.

" _Truce?_  At least, until we finish saving world, as Peter says?"

Moira looked at him evenly for a few seconds before smiling and taking his hand.

"I think I can arrange for that."

* * *

"Those two are seriously  _cracked_  in the head," Peter remarked, shaking his head as he watching Azazel and Moira laughing in the cockpit. Raven moved through the center of the plane, stopping in front of the teens and crouching down to be on eye level.

"How is everyone doing?" Her tone was even, but Kurt could hear the concern in her voice.

" _Scared,_ " Jean admitted. The closer they got to Cairo (and whatever was there waiting for them), Kurt felt his own fear escalating - he knew the others did too - but at least he no longer felt sick to his stomach. Thank God that right before they got on the plane, Dr. McCoy pulled Kurt aside and handed him something called  _dramamine_. As it turns out, the scientist got motion sickness too and recognized it immediately in Kurt's cyan colored face. Those wonder pills made the indigo teen feel almost normal.

"You can use your fear," Raven nodded. "Use it, but don't let it control you."

"Were you scared?" Wanda's silver eyes shined as she looked at Raven. "That day in D.C.? Were you scared?"

"No," Raven shook her head. She then looked around at each of them. Kurt might have imagined it, but he felt like her gaze lingered on him, even if only a second longer. "I wasn't scared in D.C., but I was scared on my first mission. I was on a plane like this with my friends, and I wasn't much older than you are now. We called ourselves the  _'X-Men'_ ," Raven laughed bitter-sweetly at the omission. "If you ever wondered where that name came from."

" _X-Men?_ " Scott asked quietly. The blue woman looked at Scott silently, seeming to carefully consider her next words.

"Your brother Alex was there with me that day. We used to call him  _Havoc_. He was a real handful, but..." Raven got a faraway look in her eyes. "He was very brave. He was always so brave."

"What happened to the rest of the kids that went with you?" Peter frowned. "What happened to the X-Men?"

"Hank... er,  _Dr. McCoy_  and I... we're the only ones left," Raven glanced back at the leonine mutant. He gave Raven a sad smile from where he sat in the rear of the plane. "I couldn't save the rest of them. I told you, I'm not a  _hero_."

"Well, you're a hero to me," Jean said quickly. "Seeing you that day on TV... knowing I wasn't  _alone_... that changed my  _life_."

"Mine too," Wanda echoed.

"Me three!" Added Peter. "I mean, I still lived in my mom's basement until a few months ago, but... everything else is... well, it's pretty much the same. I'm a total loser. Oh, except I have a super hot girlfriend now. She's pretty badass."

Kurt nodded but remained quiet. After a few more reassurances, Raven stood and returned to the rear of the plane, taking a seat next to Dr. McCoy. Kurt watched her walk away. Next to Wanda, Peter snapped on his headphones and started humming  _"Blackbird."_  Ever since they freed Raven from the cage, she'd been wearing her natural skin along with her faux flight suit. Kurt only been six years old the day  _Mystique_  appeared on TV, but he remembered seeing her blue skin for the first time as if it was yesterday. He remembered Mama Margali gently shaking him awake and wrapping him in a blanket, leaving Stefan and Jamaine in bed as she carried a sleepy Kurt to a neighboring caravan. Kurt rubbed his eyes and realized they were at the Ringmaster's wagon, the only one to have a satellite TV, and there was a was a small audience keenly surrounding it. At first he was confused - he and the other children only got to watch Saturday morning cartoons on the TV, and it clearly was the middle of the night - but when Mama Margali whispered for him to look and pointed at the screen, Kurt's little heart skipped a beat.

"Mama, she's  _blue!_ " Kurt wriggled out of Mama Margali's arms and ran to the TV. He remembered touching the screen where Raven's face was, as if it would somehow make her more real. He'd never before seen anyone who looked like him, and certainly not on TV. "Who is she?"

"She's a hero,  _Liebchen_ ," Mama Margali knelt next to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. He remembered how her eyes sparkled as she spoke. "She just risked her life to save the American president." Kurt was too little to realize it then, but there had been a sadness in his surrogate mother's voice. She told him once long ago that he'd been her gift from God, but she'd always cleverly dogged questions about his real parents. He suddenly wondered if Mama Margali had known all along who Raven really was, and if that had been her true motivation that night to rouse him and show him  _The Hero_  on TV.

Kurt glanced up as Azazel moved towards where Raven and Dr. McCoy sat. After a moment, the scientist excused himself to return to the cockpit, and Azazel took the seat next to Raven.

"' _Blackbird singing in the dead of night._ '" Peter's nearby humming had escalated into quiet lyrics.

Kurt secretly watched the colorful mutants interact. There was something almost sweet about their behavior, the way Azazel leaned slightly towards Raven as he spoke, and the small smile on Raven's face as she touched his arm while listening.

_"'Take these broken wings and learn to fly.'"_

He couldn't hear what they were saying, but it looked like they were having a perfect moment amidst all the chaos; almost the family moment he'd hoped for earlier that day.

_"'All your life you've been waiting for this moment to arise.'"_

"Dude,  _shut it_ ," Wanda rolled her eyes and elbowed Peter hard. "No one wants to hear you destroy the classics."

Suddenly, the indigo teen had an epiphany. Kurt took a deep breath and unlatched his seat-belt. He squeezed Wanda's hand once before letting go. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shook his head as he stood and started walking towards the rear of the plane. Kurt didn't know what was in store for them over the next few hours, but he wasn't going to miss this opportunity again. The Beatles were right: he had been waiting his whole life for this moment to arise.

Audience or not, it was time to tell Raven and Azazel the truth.


	39. Ok

Raven flopped down into the seat next to Hank. She just finished giving what felt like a woefully inadequate pep talk to the teens. She hadn't planned on giving any kind of speech, but she'd felt obligated to say  _something_  when she heard the abject fear in their questions. Raven knew the younger mutants looked to her as a  _hero_ , but honestly, in the ten years she unwittingly wore that title, it never sat well with her. Her actions in '73 were not those of a hero; Raven walked into that political arena planning to  _kill_  Trask and Nixon, and sparing their lives had been a last-minute decision thanks mostly to Charles.  _If anyone is a truly a hero_ , the blue woman sighed as she rubbed her face,  _it's him_. Her brother had quietly won the role of hero the day he'd caught a young Raven plundering his family's kitchen, and he proved his worth of the title each time he took in a troubled mutant and gave them hope and a chance at a real future. All Raven did was remove some mutants from bad situations, and she was motivated not by altruism, but by penance for all the wrong she'd done in her life prior. Heroship was unfairly thrust upon her, and it was something she'd run from it ever since.

Eventually the teens resumed their chatter, Peter turned to his Walkman, and Moira and Azazel started laughing at the front of the plane.

"Just like  _old times_ , huh?" Hank commented as he shoveled a forkful of food in his mouth. Raven turned slightly and looked at him through splayed fingers.

"Yeah, just like  _old times_ , except now  _you_  and  _I_  get to be  _Charles_ and  _Moira_."

"Oh, well in that case, I get to be  _Moira_ ," the blue man chuckled. Raven shook her head but grinned at his jovial teasing. She slid her hands from her face and folded them in her lap, sneaking a glance at Azazel just in time to see him and Moira shaking hands.  _What lunacy those two are agreeing on,_  she raised a suspicious eyebrow,  _I'm not sure I even want to know_. She had to admit it though was good to see the two playing nice; Lord only knew they all needed to have each others' backs for the fledgling team to even stand a chance against En Sabah Nur and his horsemen.

"You know," Hank quietly interrupted her thoughts, "I thought it was a  _joke_  the day Azazel called you his wife, but you two really are  _together_ , aren't you?" The blue woman's heart skipped a beat and she turned sharply to face her friend.

"I  _don't_... I'm not  _sure_..." she faltered, looking at Hank in alarm. It wasn't that she wanted to  _hide_  her relationship, especially not after she and Azazel decided to rekindle it, but she didn't exactly want to advertise it until they'd had the chance to talk with Kurt first. Raven had never been one to flaunt her private life, and Azazel had never been a  _publicly_  affectionate individual, and the two didn't behave like love-struck teenagers in front of the others.  _Especially not in front of Hank_... Raven bit her lip. Once upon a time the blue woman did have more-than-friendly feelings for him, and she knew he'd still felt something for her as recent as '73. She really did care about him as her friend and she didn't want to hurt him unintentionally, especially not as they were heading into combat.

"Raven, it's Ok,  _really_ ," he reached over and patted her hand, as if reading her mind. "There was a time when that kinda news would have come as a blow, but that's in our past now. If you're happy, then I'm happy.  _Truly_."

"How did you even...?" She stopped when the leonine mutant tapped on his nose.

"People often forget that as a feral I have heightened senses, including a rather advanced sense of  _smell_ ," he shrugged, playing it off as it it was nothing. Raven blushed deeply, casting her eyes towards her feet in embarrassment. She had forgotten about that aspect of Hank's mutation; he of all people would have immediately known about her and Azazel's little  _digression_ before take-off based on the pheromones in her blood, not to mention that she probably wore his scent all over her like a second skin.

"You know, the day you arrived at the school, I knew you were there before I saw you because I could  _smell_  you. You have a very specific scent. Everyone does, actually. I can be blindfolded in a room and tell you exactly who's standing near me just by the air. But," Hank smiled bittersweetly, "the day you came back, there was this other scent, a new one I couldn't quite place. It was like someone who smelled like you, but just enough different as to not be you." The blue man nodded discreetly towards Kurt. "The moment I caught Kurt's scent I knew he was yours, and when I saw him; well, let's just say I remember enough from Cuba to correctly guess who his father was, even before Azazel decided to show up."

Raven swallowed hard and nodded, now at a loss for words. All this time and Hank knew; all this time he knew everything, but he hadn't breathed a word to anyone about her deepest secrets, not even to her. After everything she'd done, she didn't deserve a friend like him.

"He's a  _great_  kid Raven," Hank laid his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "You should be really proud of him."

"I  _am_  really proud of him," she admitted quietly.

"He deserves to hear that from you."

"Now you're staring to sound like  _Charles_ ," Raven snickered. "Maybe  _I_  should be Moira?"

"Speaking of," Hank glanced up as Azazel started walked towards them. He took his hand off her shoulder and nodded politely when the red mutant arrived, and Raven was pleased to see Azazel acknowledged him in return. A small part of her had worried about a possible confrontation between the two men after the events in The Danger Room (which Hank had repeatedly insisted - and she believed - was a complete accident). In the background Peter started to hum quietly.  _Singing is definitely not part of his mutation;_ the thought suddenly struck Raven as rather funny, since the silver-haired youth sounded just as tone-deaf as Erik the few times she'd heard him absentmindedly hum a tune. She hoped when they landed that Peter would remember everything she'd said about his father while they were in captivity, and help sway the metal-bender to their side. In her heart, Raven had the feeling they couldn't win without Erik.

Finished with his MRE, Hank excused himself to resume his duties at the front of the plane.

"How do you feel?" She asked as Azazel claimed Hank's vacated seat and put his half-finished cup of coffee on the floor next to his feet.

"Scared."

"... _Scared?_ " While his reply was prompt, Raven heard no fear in his voice nor saw it in his stoic expression. "In all the times we've fought together, now you're suddenly  _scared?_ "

" _Nyet_  for me," he motioned to the teens, "for them. They were good on the military base but now, going into real combat? They are  _nyet_  ready for this, and I do  _nyet..._ " Azazel hesitated and ran his hand through his hair, soothing it back almost nervously. He leaned in closer and dropped his voice, locking eyes with Raven.

"I do  _nyet_ wish for Kurt to have this life. I want him to have a  _choice_."

"I know," she whispered as she lightly touched his arm, "I want that too, Zaz. And we'll give it to him - to  _all_  of them - when this is over." For a moment, the pair sat in a comfortable silence, lost in their private thoughts.

"Hey," the blue women smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "What's the first thing you're going to do when this is all over and we're somewhere safe?"

"Take the longest, hottest bath I can stand," Azazel smirked, "and then drink until I can  _nyet_  piss straight and sleep for a week."

"That actually sounds  _delightful_ ," she laughed lightly. "Maybe if you're lucky, I'll even make you a lasagna to go with..."

" _Entschuldigen?_ "

She paused and glanced up at the sound of a throat clearing, and was surprised to see Kurt standing just a few feet away. His tail swished erratically behind him and he bared his fangs in a nervous smile.

" _Um_ , may I speak with you?"

* * *

Exactly three seconds into his decision to reveal the truth - right after both Raven and Azazel looked up expectantly and his mouth went drier than the Sahara Desert (which, they might actually be flying over) - Kurt realized he'd made a  _huge mistake_. He stood awkwardly wringing his hands, feeling like he'd eaten a entire jar of butterflies as the two mutants waited patiently for him to begin. After a few seconds of silence, Azazel frowned and pointed at himself.

" _Nein,_ " the gesture jolted Kurt jolted back to life, "I... I want to speak with  _both_  of you, actually."

"Alright," Raven nodded and sat back, crossing her arms. "What's on your mind?"

"Ok," Kurt held out his hands as he attempted to rally himself. "Ok, ok, ok..."

" _Ok?_ " Azazel echoed, tilting his head slightly.

"Kurt, are  _you_  Ok?" Raven frowned in concern.

" _Nein._  I mean,  _ja_! I mean... I'm  _Ok!_ "

"You do  _nyet_  sound  _'Ok.'_ " The red man furrowed his brow.

"I'm  _fine_." The truth was that Kurt was not Ok; he felt like a deer blinded by headlights and on the verge of hyperventilating. All the words he'd wanted to say were suddenly jumbled in German and English and gibberish and stuck somewhere between his head and mouth and his heart. He wondered if he could scamper back to his seat and everyone could forget this whole awkward moment happened. After a few more seconds of wavering, the indigo teen sighed, putting his hand over his face. His nerves weren't going to allow for any finesse. He was starting to realize the only way to do this was to just spit it out before his odd behavior drew an audience; he'd just have to deal with the ramifications later.

"Look, I don't know exactly how to say this, so I'm just going to say it, Ok?"

" _Ok?_ " Raven shrugged, now raising an eyebrow. Kurt took a deep breath and mentally counted to three before taking his hands off his face.

" _I know who you are!_ " Instantly, the indigo teen relief flood into his veins.  _There, I did it!_  The news was finally out in the open. He smiled brightly, but Raven and Azazel only glanced at each other before continuing to stare at him with no discernible reaction. After a few seconds, the red mutant frowned and sat back, now crossing his arms.

"Of course you know who we are," Azazel made a  _tisk-tisk_  noise and shook his head slowly, " _mal'chik_ , you have known us for  _five_  months. Did you hit your head at the base when teleporting?"

"What?  _Nein!_  That's not what I..."

"Are you  _sure_  you're Ok?" The blue woman reached out and put her hand against Kurt's forehead. " _Hmm_... you do feel a little  _warm_."

" _I_.  _Am_.  _Fine_." Kurt huffed, exasperated. "It's not  _me_ , it's..."

"Maybe he's just dehydrated," Raven interrupted and addressed Azazel directly. "I think he needs water."

" _Nyet_ , it is just nerves. What he needs is  _medicine_ ," the red mutant corrected, holding up a finger. "The  _good_  stuff. I can get some; will only take a few minutes..." He started to stand but stopped when Raven seized his arm.

"You're  _not_  leaving to get  _vodka_ ," she scowled, giving him a sharp look. "Teleporting  _off_  a moving plane is hard enough, let alone trying to get back  _on_..."

"You think I can  _nyet_  do this?" He scoffed, appeared affronted by her doubting. " _Watch me_."

"Don't you dare!"

" _Stop_ , both of you! I don't need water or...wait,  _vodka?_ " The teen whined loudly. " _That's_  what you've been giving me?" He was mortified when his friends looked over (except Peter, who was obliviously listening and singing to his music).  _So much for having a private moment,_  he grumbled. Things were spiraling out of control.

"Don't raise your voice at us," Raven scolded gently.

"Look," Kurt held out his hands again. "What I want to say is that I know you're...

_"INCOMING!"_

He barely had time to resister that Dr. McCoy had yelled before plane rocked violently to the side. He heard Jean and Wanda scream as he lost his balance. Before he could blink, Peter was behind him, holding onto an overhead beam and propping Kurt up by his shoulders.

"I got you Elf!" The speedster assured with a grin. Kurt turned back to his parents, now breathing hard. Azazel had one arm protecting Raven and his other arm reaching Kurt, but Peter had beaten him to it.

"Seat belts  _now_ , everyone!" Ms. Agent MacTaggert called over her shoulder as the plane erratically bounced. "We just entered Cairo airspace and things are looking  _ugly!_ "

The indigo teen suddenly found himself back in his seat, slightly dizzy and with his belt firmly fastened. He glanced over at Peter and the speedster gave him a thumb's up from his own seat as he buckled in.

"Are you Ok?" Wanda leaned over and whispered, looking at him with concern. Kurt shook his head  _no_  as he took her hand. She looked concerned, but didn't press her question further. Instead, she laced her fingers around his and squeezed his hand tightly. Kurt looked out the front window and sucked his breath in as the clouds painted the daytime sky violent shades of purple and black. There was something unnatural, almost  _unholy_ , about the sudden looming darkness converging on them.

Raven moved swiftly to the front of the plane, holding onto the overhand beams for balance. Kurt watched as she moved past. The last words he had said - " _my parents"_  - had been lost along with the moment to the gathering storm.

* * *

_**Safe Haven - Near Grounds of the Former Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, New York** _

"I do not like this at all," Clarice pursed her lips as she peered out the cabin window at the rapidly darkening sky. Next to her, Jubilee looked pensive with her arms crossed tightly, but she made no vocal observation.

"What do you think it is?" Lucas scratched his neck nervously as he watched the deep purple clouds swirl overhead. Just a few minutes prior, the four had been distributing pilfered supplies when James' sensitive hearing picked up that something was wrong and headed their way. He ran to the window and the others followed suit. It took a few moments before Clarice could also hear the strange hum vibrating the air. In the distance, she watched as debris suddenly started floating into the sky.  _What the hell...?_  Her emerald eyes widened in shock when she realized it was large pieces of  _metal_  drifting skyward, and whatever it was, it was about to engulf their refuge.

"Get everyone away from the windows and doors," she whispered, taking a fearful step back. Jubilee spun on her heels and raced back into the main room, waving for Danielle's attention.

"You two, stay here and keep an eye on this; yell if it gets worse," Clarice nodded to the boys as she turned away.

"Where are you going?" James asked, a touch of fear creeping into his voice, but Clarice motioned that she'd be right back as she keep moving.

"Does everyone have their special backpack? Good, then it's story time!" She heard Danielle speak cheerfully as she ducked through the cabin's main room.  _Good thing the gang's all here_ , Clarice thought as she watched the youngest children (Luna among them) gather around their teacher. They'd decided to bring everyone into the main cabin to sort and distribute supplies, and now with the sudden storm gathering, it was sheer luck that all the students were in one defensible location. Always a quick thinker (it was a necessity when minding youngsters), Danielle was distracting the children with a story and thankfully, Jubilee planned ahead by packing a bunch of backpacks with emergency supplies. This way if  _anything_  happened, each of the older students and their little buddies had access to a few days worth a food, water, and medical supplies.

As Danielle started reading from Treasure Island, Clarice slipped out of the room, jogging quickly towards her temporary bed. Leaning against the wall was Azazel's sword, her reclaimed katana, and a satchel she'd found in the wreckage. She opted against taking the swords - she didn't feel like explaining to Big Brother she'd lost his favorite blade because it flew off into some weird, metal-eating storm - but she did want her satchel. She put it on and closed her eyes, concentrating. Her fingers wove though the air and pulled out crystal after crystal. She kept working until her fingers hurt and the satchel was overflowing; she needed as many as possible for her plan to work.

"I should be going out there with you guys," Alex said quietly from a neighboring bed. Clarice opened her eyes and glanced over. The blonde mutant was looking much better in the few hours he'd been recovering. Between Danielle and Clarice's first aid, they'd at least gotten him cleaned up and secured his broken arm in a sling.  _Lucky bastard looks like he has advanced healing with his mutation,_ she thought as she observed some of his burns looking fairly well healed. She wasn't terribly surprised; all the KGB mutants she'd known who possessed energy manipulating gifts always recovered quickly. It was probably the only way they didn't kill themselves using their own powers.

"Absolutely nope!" Clarice retorted. She marched over and closed the curtains to the window next Alex, causing him to make a face. "Bed rest, doctor's orders."

"You are  _not_  a licensed medical professional," he laughed before wincing slightly.

"And you are  _not_  taking away my only chance to shock everyone with the surprise reveal that  _Alex Summers_  is among the living," Clarice snorted. "Besides, if  _anything_  happens out there, I need someone with combat experience who I can trust to get these kids as far away from here as possible. And that, my  _American_  friend, is your job." Clarice tightened her satchel and took one last look at Alex. "Make sure to keep the curtains closed. We don't need a full-scale panic on our hands."

"Aye-aye  _comrade_ ," Alex smiled and gave her a mock salute. Clarice smirked and shook her head. In the few hours she'd gotten to know Alex, she was finding she rather liked his humor and easy-going nature. In a lot of ways, he reminded her of an older, more-confident Kurt, and...

 _Kurt_... Clarice frowned and hustled back to the others. Somewhere out in this terrible storm was her entire _family,_  and she'd be  _goddamed_  if she was going to let them down by letting anything happen to the remaining students at Westchester.

"Bishop? Warpath?" Clarice adjusted her satchel and nodded to the young men. "You two sure you're ready for this?"

The two mutants nodded enthusiastically as Jubilee ran over and joined their group. She linked hands with Bishop and let her fireworks flow to charge him up as they walked outside to face the growing storm. Clarice didn't like the idea of her team being so young, but they didn't really have a choice; it suddenly seemed like the whole world had all been drafted into this apocalyptic war whether they were ready for it or not.

"Listen up!" She called out. "The plan is simple: if anything - or  _anyone_  - comes near this cabin, deflect it or take them down. Our priority is too keep everyone inside safe. They're counting on us, and I don't mean to let them down."

Clarice watched as the storm and its swirling tornado of debris approached. Jubilee stood next to her, and her hands crackled with light. Bishop's eyes glowed brightly and Warpath stood with with fists at the ready. Clarice steeled herself as she looked into the sky, thinking of Azazel, Kurt, Peter, and all the others who needed her to be her best.  _I'm a born fighter,_ she rallied _, and I'd rather go down swinging than sitting still._ Clarice took a deep breath before teleporting herself onto position the roof.  _  
_

The onslaught was almost immediate.

She began throwing crystals as soon as her fingers touched them, redirecting all manner of large things - tree branches, rocks, bricks ( _Cars? That was a_ fucking _car!_ ) - that the wild wind whipped towards their safe haven. All around her Clarice saw Jubilee blasting stuff away with her fireworks. Periodically she'd charge-up Bishop who would use his energy to vaporize larger items. Warpath simply grabbed things or punched them away in the air. Clarice kept guard up on the top of the cabin while the three protected the walls in the path of the storm.

"Is everyone _Ok_?" She called down after a while during a brief calm. Her team looked a little worse for wear, but each young mutant gave her a thumbs up as they gulped for breath. The most important thing was that the cabin was intact; their combined fighting had keep it safe. _For now_.

"Good," Clarice gasped, nodding towards the horizon where another wave of debris was rolling their way. "Get ready for round two."

They were in for a long night.

* * *

_**Stolen Military Plane, Cairo Airspace** _

"I do  _nyet_  like this at all," Azazel narrowed his eyes as he faced front of the plane. Raven peered over his shoulder, a frowning deeply. Metal of all shapes and sizes coiled in the air like twisted serpents, periodically illuminated by wicked flashes of lightening. In a way, the scene before them was terrifyingly beautiful.  _And terrifyingly familiar_ , she thought, feeling her heart sink. She knew all too well Erik's talents on the battlefield, and the metal marring their flight path could be from no one else but _Magneto_. Raven stole a glance at Peter, but the speedster was looking at his hands in his lap. He must know his father was the reason for the immediate danger. Next to him Wanda and Kurt looked pensive as the plane lurched. Raven's eyes lingered briefly on the indigo teen. He'd been acting so  _odd_  a few moments ago; he'd always been so easygoing around her and Azazel, but suddenly, something seemed amiss. She assumed it was just jangled nerves; listening to the plane groan as Hank navigated the aerial minefield, she didn't blame Kurt one bit for being frightened. Whatever he'd wanted to say, it'd have to wait until after this nightmare was over.

" _Jesus!_ " Moira gasped. "What the  _hell_  is that?!" Raven turned back and covered her mouth in shock as a giant pyramid loomed out of the darkness right in front of the plane.

" _Hold on!_ " Hank quickly swerved to avoid collision. The blue women's entire body lurched to the side. She was kept upright only by grabbing Hank's seat while Azazel's quick tail coiled around her waist as he held on to overhead beams. The imposing structure had devoured a large part of central Cairo, and it's unscripted appearance had to be the work of En Sabah Nur. Raven had the uneasy feeling that if Charles was anywhere in this city, it was somewhere trapped inside the giant tomb.

"Moira, can you check the fuel gadgets in the rear? The magnetic interference is really messing-up my control panel," Hank asked. Azazel released Raven to allow Moira pass. The agent quickly unstrapped and made her way to the back of the plane. She motioned to Hank that the reserves were almost depleted. The blue man scowled as he dodged another piece of debris. The turbulence was incredible, and Raven held on tightly to the overhead beams, feeling as if she was on a roller coaster.

"I'm not entire sure I'm going to be able to land this bird," Hank admitted as he wove again to the side.

"Can we just,  _um_... I dunno... can we teleport off?" Scott suggested, looking at Kurt. The indigo teen shook his head.

"Is too risky," Azazel surmised. "There are too many things in the air to move a group this big."

"Zaz, we might not have a choice," Raven whispered out of earshot of the teens. Azazel looked at her and frowned, but did not speak. Danger or not, if Hank couldn't land soon, they'd have to take their chances jumping through the storm. They didn't have enough fuel to keep flying much longer.

"There!" Hank called out excitedly. "Right there! It's a decent landing site, if I can just..."

Suddenly, there was an earsplitting, tearing screech and a rush of cold air filled the cabin. Raven was thrown hard into the wall. Her hair whipped around her violently and she desperately gripped the back of Hank's chair for purchase. She felt weightless and suddenly had trouble breathing.

 _What the hell is going on?_  Behind her, Raven heard screaming and warning alarms for depressurization blaring. The plane pitched forward at an unnatural angle and gained speed. Raven turned to face at the chaos. What she saw made a scream hitch in her throat.

The tail end of the plane was badly fractured and an entire side was gone, sucking out the air out with violent force. Moira lay on the ground, thrown down from the impact while checking the rear fuel reserves. She was holding on to an unclasped seat-belt for her very life. The plane rocked again and Hank roared, trying his best to turn their free-fall into a glide. The sudden movement caused Moira to slip toward the void, and panic flashed across her face as her life-line of a seat belt ripped. The agent clawed at the floor desperately for anything to hold on to, but it was too late.

" _Moira!_ " Raven screamed as the woman tumbled out of the plane and into the unforgiving night.


	40. Ground Zero

_**Ground Zero - Cairo, Egypt** _

For as long as he could remember, Azazel had always been able to teleport. Even as a child, all he had to do was picture where he wanted to be and he'd wink out of existence, reappearing almost instantly in his chosen spot. Of course when he was very young, it was difficult to cross distances longer than just a few meters; teleporting far away and into places where he couldn't see were skills that took years of rigorous practice to refine, as did mastering the ability to teleport while carrying multiple passengers. Additionally, Azazel found his mutation possessed a mild, almost telepathic quality to it. In a way, the red man could sense his immediate surroundings and the people in them just a heartbeat before he appeared, allowing him to carefully adjust his position before becoming tangible. This was an invaluable boon during hand-to-hand combat, making Azazel a whirling dervish of blades and violence. Teleporting in his line of sight was the easiest; teleporting  _out_  of a fast moving object wasn't that difficult, but appearing  _in_ one took real skill and concentration.

Luckily for Moira MacTaggert - although Azazel doubted if pressed, she'd use the word  _lucky_  - she had fallen  _out_  of the failing plane rather than  _into_  it.

The second she slipped away, Azazel released his overhead hold and vanished. He reappeared tumbling through the sky, quickly scanning the aerial minefield for her.

 _Nothing_.

He reappeared in second spot, quickly rolling to his left and narrowly avoiding a collision as a broken car roared past, groaning as it tore through the sky. He looked again for Moira, his search growing desperate. She didn't have much time; she'd fall for a moment or two at most before hitting the ground. The darkened sky and treacherous metal obstacles he knew Magento was manipulating only hindered his mission.

_If I could just... there!_

Azazel winked out of existence as soon as he spotted the falling woman. With his third rapid teleport, he arrived just an arm's length away from her. He quickly wrapped his tail around Moira's waist and yanked her towards him. She twisted in mid-air, terror and surprised etched on her face as she realized what was happening. She reached for him, and then...

Pain exploded through Azazel's right side and stars burst into his field of vision. The surprise impact caused him to reflexively release his tail, and Moira screamed as she slipped away. He swore, clutching his right side. He'd been so focused on reaching her that he failed to see the broken I-beam hurdling towards them, and it clipped him hard. He clenched his jaw as he continued to plummet, fixing his gaze on Moira. The ground was rapidly approaching. If he couldn't get her in his next attempt, it would be too late. Fighting through the pain, Azazel braced for another teleport, and this time appearing just in front of Moira. She clawed the air desperately, her fingers just brushing his. He strained his reach as they raced towards death, closing his hand around her wrist when...

"...I have you," Azazel panted hard, holding Moira tightly against him as the two materialized on the ground. The agent was trembling like a leaf, her arms wrapped so tightly around his neck that she was practically choking him.

"Moira...  _safe_..." He manged to spit out. "Need... let  _go_... can  _nyet_  breathe..." Azazel took both of her wrists and gently broke her grip, pulling her hands in front of him. She immediately seized his arm, as if still afraid she fall if she wasn't holding on. He put his hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

"Where...?" Moira looked around wildly, her hazel eyes large as she took in their surroundings. "Where  _are_  we?"

"The first place I could see." Azazel took the opportunity to glance around as well. Judging by the broken statues and crumbling columns, they were in the midst of some temple courtyard. It really was the first place he'd spied clearly in the chaos of his fall. The red man was loathe to admit it, but Moira's rescue was a close call, even for him. He winced as he gingerly touched his right side, seeming to reaffirm this as fact.

"You're hurt," she quietly observed.

"I am  _fine_ ," he dismissed, waving off her concern. Undeterred, Moira released his arm and pressed on his right side to check the extent of his injury. Even at her gentle touch, the pain was intense. She asked him to spit and take a deep a few deep breaths. Thankfully, they didn't see any blood in his saliva, so it seemed he escaped a punctured lung, although it was safe to say he had broken at least one rib if not more. Azazel frowned at her assessment. He didn't have time to be injured, not now.

"I have to go back," he looked up, scanning the sky for the plane. In order him to reach Moira before she reached the ground, he couldn't afford to take the others with him (not to mention the impossibility of juggling that many passengers in mid-air). Save Moira, go back for the others; that had been the loose plan during his chaotic free-fall. The plane could fly a few minutes longer before things became dire.  _Plenty of time to go back..._ A tingle of fear began creeping up Azazel's neck as he realized he couldn't no longer  _see_  the plane. The wild sky its metal minefield made teleporting up to look for it far too dangerous, not to mention that being injured made accurate teleporting more taxing. He'd need all his strength to maneuver back onto the plane and then immediately carry all seven mutants off it. As it stood, if he couldn't  _see_  the plane, he couldn't get  _back_ to it.  _And Kurt's not yet strong enough to teleport that may people..._

" _Look out!_ " Moira screamed as she dove, knocking Azazel to the side. The red man nearly blacked out from the pressure the woman inflicted on his injury. A second later, a bolt of lightening struck the exact exact spot where they'd stood. His vision cleared just long enough to see the white-haired African women floating in the air. White-hot sparks leaped from her fingers as she raised her hands again. He swore and seized Moira by the arm, and the pair vanished just as lightening struck a second time.

When they reappeared, Azazel took a few shaky steps backwards and leaned against a wall as Moira coughed violently. They jumped not far away - inside a building he saw from the courtyard - and thankfully, the space seemed unoccupied. More importantly, it was out of sight from that weather witch who just tried to kill them. Azazel took a few deep breaths trying to regain his composure. By now sweat beaded on his forehead from the pain and he was starting to feel dizzy. Moira turned to a window and pulled back a ragged curtain, careful to make as little movement as possible to avoid attracting any unwanted attention.

Azazel frowned he looked at the sky, desperately willing the plane to come into view. They had just a few minutes of flight left, and time was running out.

* * *

The plane continued its downward trajectory at an alarming rate, although through some miracle, Dr. McCoy corrected its flight into a glide instead of a fall. It bought the seven remaining passengers time, although not very much. The wind continued to whip violently into the cabin, drowning out the teens' cries of anguish and fear. Kurt had seen Azazel disappear just a moment before - he guessed to rescue Ms. MacTaggert - and any second the indigo teen expected to see the man return to save the rest of them.

"Get everyone to the front of the plane!" Raven screamed to Peter over the harsh noise. A heartbeat later, Kurt found himself crouched between the pilot and co-pilot's seats, surrounded by his fearful team members. He stole a peek out the cockpit window; the strange pyramid seemed to glow, and it loomed terrifyingly close to the plane. He ducked down and swallowed hard, worrying again that Azazel hadn't yet returned, although he thought Raven made a good call by gathering them all together. It'd be much easier for Azazel to teleport everyone if they were already in the same spot.

"Grab onto Kurt!" Dr. McCoy commanded. Kurt suddenly felt several panicked hands seize him, including a few rather uncomfortably latching onto his tail.  _Why is everyone...?_

"You have to teleport us off this plane!" Raven demanded as she crouched down and grabbed his arm.

" _Wait...was?!_ " A tidal wave of fear swelled in him. " _Nein!_  Azazel... he'll come back for us!"

"Seventh Wonder, 12 O'Clock!" Dr. McCoy let go of the now useless controls and he grabbed Kurt's shoulder. "We're T-20 seconds from impact. We can't wait any longer!"

"We have to go, now!" Raven pleaded.

"But I've... I've  _never_  done it with this many people!" Kurt wailed. He'd done the math:  _Raven, Dr. McCoy, Scott, Jean, Wanda, Peter..._  the most he'd ever jumped with was  _three_  passengers, not  _six_.  _That's twice as many! And where am I supposed to take everyone?_ He couldn't see anywhere except the pyramid, and he certainly didn't want to appear in the middle of that thing (if he could even see to get in). He didn't even try to keep the panic out of his voice as everyone suddenly seemed to clutch him harder.

" _Dude_ , get us out of here!" Scott begged. Kurt took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating. He felt his body fade slightly, but he snapped back before vanishing. He frowned harder as he tried again; this time the fade felt deeper, but as soon as another person started fading with them, they both snapped back. Next to him, tears streamed down Wanda's face and Jean had her eyes closed, no doubt summoning her telekinesis to buy them a few more precious seconds. Even Peter looked terrified. All eyes were on him, but he didn't know what to do. He felt tears of fear and failure building in his eyes.

_I can't, I can't, I..._

"You  _can_." Raven's voice cut thorough his dire thoughts, almost as if she read his mind. She put her hand on his cheek, gently tilting his face up. Kurt swallowed hard as he looked into Raven's golden eyes, the same eyes that looked back at her. Despite the terror of their situation, she somehow managed a small smile.

"Kurt, I  _know_  can do this; I know you have it in you _._ "

He reached up and took Raven's hand in his. She squeezed his reassuringly, and he nodded.  _If my father can do it_ , Kurt realized,  _then why not me?  
_

"Everyone hold on!" Kurt rallied himself. "On the count of three!  _Eins! Zwei...!_

He closed his eyes and prayed.

* * *

"... _Drei!_ "

Raven let out an audible  _oopf_  as her backside hit the ground hard. The impact made her fingers slip from Kurt's hand as she rolled onto her side. She pushed herself up quickly, shaking her head to clear her vision. Kurt's jumps were no where near as graceful as Azazel's, but all that mattered right now is that he'd done it - he'd gotten them off that god forsaken plane. Judging by the domestic trappings around her, it appeared he'd somehow teleported the group into a random house. The indigo teen sat in the center of the room, wide-eyed and swaying slightly in a stupor. Scott sat up on top of a small dining table rubbing his head, and Jean and Wanda were on both sprawled across on a rug near Kurt. Hank had luckily landed on a small sofa. Thankfully, everyone was present and unharmed, except...

" _Peter?_ " Wanda asked fearfully as she sat up, her eyes darting around the room. "Where's...?'

"I'm  _here!_  I'm  _Ok!_ " A muffled voice answered. The team looked around but the silver-haired youth was no where to be seen.A few seconds later, Raven hear a dull knocking from  _behind_  the wall. " _Um_ , a little help?"

Hank leaped off the sofa and in one swift motion, ripped paneling off the wall. Sure enough, a dusty but uninjured Peter was trapped behind it.

"How did you you even...?" Scott started.

"I accidentally  _let go,_ " the speedster interrupted as Hank helped pull him out. Peter shrugged sheepishly at the dumbfounded group. "So yeah,  _um_... try not to let go."

A sudden crack of smoke swirled in the corner of the room and a heartbeat later, Azazel and Moira materialized. Raven let out a sigh of relief as the others cheered Moira's safe return. He nodded to Jean and she removed her fingers off her temple.  _Smart girl_ , Raven thought. The young telepath must have reached out to find Azazel and show him where they were.

"You did it!" Wanda threw herself at a still dazed Kurt and hugged him fiercely. The force of Wanda's body knocked them both backwards onto the ground.

"Hey.  _Hey!_ " Peter scolded, speeding over to pull the teens apart. "Break it up!"

Jean helped Kurt sit up, and he looked blankly around the room. Raven thought the poor kid looked like he was going to pass out.

"Did he  _teleport_  everyone here?" Azazel asked, a tone of astonishment in his voice. Raven couldn't help a small, prideful smile as she nodded. "Scott, get him on feet. Make him walk. He needs to keep moving," the red mutant commanded. Scott hoisted Kurt up, slinging his friend's arm over his shoulder as the pair started slowly circling the room. As they moved, Raven noticed a bit of color coming back to Kurt's cheeks and he seemed perk up. She did raise her eyebrow at the fact Azazel delegating helping Kurt to Scott instead of helping the boy himself. He also seemed to be favoring his right side.  _He's injured_ , she realized, frowning at the implication.  _He's hurt and he's trying to hide it._

"Well," Scott asked as he and Kurt lapped the room, "now what do we do?"

"We find the Professor," Jean responded, putting her fingers again to her temple. Hank motioned with his chin out the window to the darkening sky.

"Then we stop the apocalypse."

* * *

Charles blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to dim interior of the tomb. The sword-welding woman named Psylocke remained at the entrance standing guard. Erik - having resurrected as  _Magneto_  - and the young African woman Storm were prowling the skies around the unholy pyramid. Inside the tomb it was cold and desolate, and Charles gasped audibly as the winged man carrying him deposited his body on a sarcophagus slab. He glared at young mutant as he took a step back. He might be paralyzed, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel pain when dropped on a stone table.

"Why am I still here?" Charles demanded. En Sabah Nur walked slowly around him, ignoring his question. The blue man held up his hands and from the sand he fashioned bonds securing Charles's wrists to the table. A cold fear began creeping into his brain. The telepath didn't know what was in store for him, but whatever it was, the sudden need for restraints didn't bode well.

"I did what you asked. I delivered your message!  _Let me go!_ " He fought against the restraints.

"Go," En Sabah Nur commanded the angel, "join the others. Protect me until the transference is complete."

 _Transference?_  Charles frowned. Whatever that was, it didn't sound good. The winged man bowed his head and in a few graceful beats of his wings, he took to the air. Charles watched him disappear into the depths of the pyramid before turning back to En Sabah Nur. To the telepath's horror, the blue man was now climbing onto the matching table next to Charles, and preparing himself as if for some kind of  _ritual_.  _  
_

"Why am I still here?" He repeated, fear tinging his voice. "You don't _need_  me anymore!"

" _Need_  you?" En Sabah Nur paused, turning to face him. A chill ran through Charles' entire body when he saw the gleam of madness and possession in the man's eyes. "Why Charles, you are the most important part of my plan. Here, perhaps if I show you?"

A myriad of images suddenly flooded Charles's brain, each more disturbing than the last: the world burning in ashes; mutants of all kinds bowing to a false god; humans in chains performing acts of menial slave labor; the horsemen and their master standing at a precipice over a broken world...

 _Until the transference is complete_... At once he saw all of En Sabah Nur's past lives, his transfers from body to body, extinguishing a mutant's life to claim it as his own in a bid for immortality...

 _You're wrong Charles_ , En Sabah Nur's voice echoed wickedly inside his head.  _For the first time in a thousand lifetimes, I have you. For all my gifts, I have yet to possess the one I needed most. To be..._ everywhere _. To be..._ everyone _._

...the last image was the most terrifying of all: En Sabah Nur  _inside_  his body, using his telepathic mutation to control the entire world.

" _No!_ " Charles screamed, shuddering at the realization. A wretched sob stuttering from his lips. " _Get out! Get out!_ " He shook his head violently. Beside him, En Sabah Nur merely chuckled villainously.

 _I have to stop this madness_ , Charles thought desperately as he fought again against the restraints. As he struggled, he saw the hieroglyphs surrounding him begin ignite with a golden glow, and the pyramid's top raise in the air on its way to the summit. The lines of golden lights ebbed slowly towards the twin sarcophagi. As he watched in horror, for a split second, the felt the mental barrier between him and En Sabah nur created weaken. Charles felt something faint like an  _itch_  at the back of his mind. Hoping against all odds, he reached out, and...

_...Professor, can you hear me?_

_Jean!_  He wanted to cry. Never had a voice sounded more beautiful in his life.

 _Professor!_  She answered back excitedly.  _We're here! We're here, and..._

 _Jean,_ he interrupted. He had a few seconds at most.  _Jean, I need you to concentrate very carefully on what I'm about to show you..._


	41. I Know

"He's holding the professor captive in the center of the pyramid, and he's going to..." Jean's voice faded as her cerulean eyes grew wide, reflecting a mixture of horror and disgust. Scott prodded her arm gently and at his touch, the young telepath startled back to reality. "He's going to... _'transfer'_ his consciousness into the Professor. If he does that..."

"...Then he'll the power to control  _every_  mind in the world," Hank finished her thought, curling his leonine features into a snarl.

"We need to move  _fast_ ," Raven crossed her arms tightly as if hugging herself. The thought of her brother helpless and at the mercy of a madman made her stomach lurch.

"We have to stop Magneto first," Moira motioned out the window. Raven frowned as she watched metal objects continue to twist into the air at an alarming rate. "He's creating too much danger and destruction out there."

"I'll take care of Erik," she downplayed the agent's concern. "He'll listen to me."

"Well, he wouldn't listen to Charles, and..."

"Well, he'll listen to  _me!_ " Raven snapped. The words came out more biting than she intended, and Moira gave her a salty look. The blue woman sighed and rubbed her forehead; the stress of the situation was getting to her, but it wasn't fair to lash out at her teammates. "Look," she started again, softening her tone, "I know I can at least create a  _distraction_ and buy time to get someone in that pyramid to find Charles."

"Even if Magneto's willing to listen, how to you plan to get through  _that_?" Wanda pointed to the seemingly impenetrable cyclone swirling around its creator like a cocoon. Raven quietly tapped on her lip, pondering the girl's question. To control metal in that magnitude, she knew Erik would be in a meditative trance. He wouldn't see her if she stood outside, and there was no way she could yell loud enough to be heard over the twisting steel. She'd have to somehow breech Erik's defenses and get  _inside_  the steel cyclone if she wanted to confront him.

 _I wish Sean were here._  The thought came unexpectedly, and she felt a swell of bittersweet nostalgia for her former X-Team.  _Sean's sonic screams, or even one of Havok's blasts would have penetrated through that for sure_. Instead, Raven turned to Azazel, catching his attention and arching her eyebrow in silent question.

"I...," the red man hesitated, turning his gaze to the cyclone and biting his bottom lip. For a split second, she saw his hand drift towards his side protectively before he corrected himself, playing off the movement by reaching up to brush his hair back. Raven frowned. Azazel never showed weakness, not even to her.  _He must be hurting worse than I thought to let that gesture slip._  From the corner of her eye, she saw Jean frown in concern too.

"I can  _nyet_  teleport inside, is too..."

"I can get you in there!" Peter's confident voice cut Azazel off, and all eyes alighted to the speedster. Raven couldn't hide the disappointment she felt flicker across her face. Peter was a good kid, but he was highly unseasoned in combat. While she certainly wanted him to appeal to Erik, she didn't want the youth to do so under fire. Her plan was to talk Erik down first and  _then_  introduce him to his long-lost son.

"Peter, it's not going to be as easy as running up there and..."

"I came to the school to find him," he held his arms out imploringly, his silver eyes shining with conviction. "I  _know_  I can do this. Please... let me help you."

She wasn't happy about it, but with Azazel injured and Kurt not strong enough to teleport into a magnetic storm (not that she'd dream of asking him to), what choice did she really have? Sighing, Raven acquiesced with a curt nod.

"Alright," Jean announced, pointing to Raven and Peter. "Quicksilver and Mystique, you two are  _Team A_. Try to talk sense into Magneto and see if you can get him to join our side. At the very least, try to distract him, and maybe that'll lessen amount of obstacles we have to dodge." The redhead shifted slightly to face the others. "Agent MacTaggert, Cyclops, Beast, Nightcrawler and I will be  _Team B._  Cyclops, Beast, and myself will distract the other horsemen, leaving En Sabah Nur and the Professor unguarded. Nightcrawler, as soon as you have a clear line of sight, teleport in the pyramid with Agent MacTaggert. I've already shown her in detail what the Professor shared with me, and she knows how to read the hieroglyphs that will lead you to the inner chamber. From what we know about the ritual, En Sabah Nur shouldn't be a threat while it's happening. Grab the Professor and then  _immediately_  teleport back here. Do you feel strong enough to do this?"

" _Ja_ ," Kurt nodded enthusiastically, "I can do this." Raven was pleased to see the boy looked almost fully recovered from his earlier jump.

"Great!" Jean turned her attention to the last two team members. "Scarlet Witch and Red Five, you're  _Team C_. You'll stay here and guard this house as our rendezvous point. As soon as Nightcrawler delivers the Professor, he'll teleport back to get me, Cyclops, and Beast, and then..."

"...Once Charles and Team B are back,  _you_  need to teleport them as  _quickly_  and as  _far away_  from here as possible," Raven interrupted, addressing Azazel directly.

" _Wait!_ " Kurt held up his hands, looking mildly alarmed. He turned quickly towards her, his eyes brimming with concern. "What about you? And Quicksilver?"

"We're a  _team_ ," Scott agreed. "We're  _not_  leaving without you!"

"Don't worry about us," Peter gave the boys an easy smile, tapping the goggles on his forehead. "Let's just agree we'll  _catch up_  to you if we miss the jump."

"Mystique is right," Hank chimed in. "Getting Charles out of here is the most important thing. You all know what's in store for him - for the  _whole world_  - if we don't get him away from En Sabah Nur."

"Does everyone understand the plan?" Jean looked around the room as the others nodded. Raven tilted her head appreciatively as she regarded the young telepath. Given their circumstances, the plan was a good one, and most important, Jean listened to and incorporated the suggestions of the entire team.  _The girl has the makings of a great leader_ , Raven thought.  _Charles will be so proud_.

"I have a question," Azazel broke the silence, holding up his hand before turning to Jean. He then pointed to himself. "What am  _I_  to be doing during all this?"

" _Um_ , I just told you?" She responded, looking slightly puzzled. "You're staying here with Scarlet Witch."

" _What?_ " He cocked his head and blinked rapidly, clearly confused. "When did you say this?"

 _"'Red Five stays with Scarlet Witch,'"_  Jean reiterated. Azazel looked around the room at the entire team before shaking his head.

"Who is  _'Red Five'_?"

"That's you,  _Brah!_ " Peter announced with a friendly smile. Azazel looked at him coolly for a second before scowling slightly.

"My name is  _A-za-zel,_ " he responded, stressing each syllable. Raven could practically feel the irritation creeping into his voice.

"I know, but that's like your name  _name,_ " the speedster clarified.

"We all have  _code_   _names_ ," Wanda added, "and since you didn't have one, we thought one up for you while we were the plane!"

"So now  _you're_  Red Five," Scott elucidated.

"It's from  _Star Wars!"_  Kurt said in a chipper tone, but Azazel's mouth only set harder.

"My  _name_  is..."

" _Shut up_ and go with it  _Red Five,_ " Raven hissed quietly in Russian, pinching the bridge of her nose. Azazel turned sharply towards her, his eyes hardening at the rebuke. Only Moira snorted quietly. The rest of the team looked around nervously at the sudden shift in languages. Azazel huffed irritably and opened his mouth to protest, but Raven shut him down. " _Not. Now._  We'll discuss this  _later_."

The team then broke for a few minutes to savor what little was left of the calm before the storm. Peter took Moira to zip around the pyramid and report back on the best site to drop Team B. Hank sat with his back against the wall, lost in his own thoughts. Wanda and Kurt held hands and talked quietly. Jean and Scott simply held each other, their eyes closed and foreheads touching. Azazel grabbed Raven by her arm and quickly steered her away from the others. Judging by the strength in his grip, he was not happy.

"This is  _nonsense!_  Why am  _I_  staying behind?" He whispered heatedly in Russian. If their situation weren't so dire, Raven would have been amused that he was whispering in a language the teens couldn't possibly decipher. " _I_  should be going after Charles, not..." He motioned discretely towards Kurt standing a few meters away, "...not  _him_. It's too dangerous, he cannot teleport as far as I can, and he..."

"Because you're  _injured!_ " Raven shot back in Russian, her anger flaring. "Did you really think you could hide that from  _me_? Or from  _Jean_?"

Her words made him pause, and for a few seconds, Azazel seemed at a loss for his argument. He pulled back slightly and released her arm, then waved his hand to dismiss her concern.

"...I'm  _fine_."

Raven narrowed her eyes but Azazel held her gaze in challenge. In one swift motion, she balled her hand into a fist and thrust forward as if to punch his right side. Azazel skirted away quickly, holding his arms in front his chest defensively. When Raven stopped and held her fist steady  _without_  touching him, he rolled his eyes and sighed, looking  _miserable_  that she called his bluff. Raven crossed her arms and glared at him.

" _Azazel?_ "

"It's not  _that_  bad," he looked away as he meekly protested. "I can still teleport, and I should be ..."

"How bad?"

"It's not..."

" _How bad_?"

"... _One_  broken rib," he answered sourly. " _Bruised_  is more likely."

" _Jesus,_ " Raven rubbed her face with both hands. "What happened?"

"I wasn't paying attention and was hit in the air by a steel beam when trying to catch Moira." He looked back at her imploringly. "But it doesn't matter! I can still..."

"I'm not going to argue with you," Raven held up her hand in a silencing gesture. "You're not getting Charles because we can't risk you getting injured any further. Zaz, the plane is  _gone_. We don't have another one, and as soon as we have my brother, we need to get the hell out of here and as far away as possible. That makes you our  _only_  hope to escape. You know as well as I do that you can only make  _one_  big jump when you're injured, and you have to take at least  _six_  people with you." She laid her hand on his forearm. Even in Russian, she too dropped her voice. "I don't like  _him_ going to get Charles anymore than you do, but at least four people will have his back. No one wants to be in anyone's shoes here, but we're stuck. It really is up to us to save the world now, and we all have a role to play."

Azazel seemed to consider her point before nodding in defeated agreement. She squeezed his arm in solidarity. She knew it was killing him to sit on the sidelines, but what she said was true: with the plane gone, Azazel's ability to teleport multiple people long distances was critical for their escape. The mission was to save Charles; once he was safe, they could worry about taking down the En Sabah Nur another day.

"Is everyone ready?" Jean asked tentatively as soon as Peter and Moira returned. Raven took a deep breath as she surveyed the assembled team. Jean, Scott, and Hank all moved into line next to Kurt and Moira. Peter cracked his neck and stretched in anticipation of his first task: running each of Team B's members to the safe spot he and Moira scoped out near the pyramid's entrance. Peter's run would save Kurt from having to jump there with four passengers. This way he could save his strength for teleporting Moira inside the pyramid and then Charles back to the house. Raven removed her hand from Azazel's arm, but she felt his tail discretely brush against her leg as she stepped away.

"I love you," Azazel whispered, switching to Chechen. She froze in her tracks, suddenly at a complete loss for what to do or say. He'd  _never_  told her he loved her before separating for a mission, and he rarely spoke his native Chechen. She glanced over her shoulder and for the first time, she realized that behind his stoic expression, Azazel was  _afraid_. In all the years they worked together, they'd never faced a foe of biblical proportions. They had no idea what was in store for any of them. Jean's plan was the safest they could devise under such circumstances, but there was still so much room for peril. No one fully knew the strengths of the other horsemen, or if they'd show any mercy fighting against  _children_  or their even own kind. If things when sour with Erik, or if En Sabah Nur completed the ritual with Charles, of if any of ten thousand different things transpired, it might be the last time they'd all be standing in the same room. She couldn't bear the thought of losing Azazel again, not after everything.

_Fuck it._

Raven turned swiftly and grabbed the red mutant, yanking him down to her and kissing him passionately. She heard a few gasps and a whistle, but she didn't give a  _damn_. She was done hiding, and she wasn't going to walk away from the man she loved without saying a proper goodbye.

"I know," Raven said softly when she finally pulled away. Azazel stood dumbfounded, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open at her audacity. Then, he suddenly seemed to remember they weren't  _alone_ , and his cheeks burned a deeper shade of red as he cleared his throat and took a few steps back. He'd never been one for publicly displaying feelings, but with the end of the world looming on the horizon, all bets were off.

 _Besides_ , she smirked as he continued to blush,  _there was no way I'm missing making that_ Star Wars _pun._

"Ok, I don't have any extra goggles on me, so everyone just keep your eyes closed until I come to a full stop, yeah?" Peter asked as he adjusted his goggles. Azazel stood off to the side, his arms lightly crossed. Wanda took up a position next to him and copied his gesture, although she was smiling giddily. One by one, Team B disappeared in a silver blur. Just before Kurt vanished with Peter, Raven swore she saw him grinning like a fool.

"Keep this place safe until I get back _Witchy_ ," Peter hugged Wanda tightly, picking her up off the ground playfully.

"Be safe out there, Quick _stinker._ "

The speedster held out his hand to escort Raven downstairs and outside. She nodded to Azazel and Wanda before taking Peter's hand and glancing out the window.

 _Ready or not Erik,_ she looked at the distant metal cyclone and swallowed hard.  _Here we come._

* * *

"Look! There's the entrance!" Scott whispered excitedly, pointing to an ominous shadow that cut like a scar into the face of the tomb.

"It looks...  _unguarded?"_ Ms. Agent MacTaggert shook her head. "Something doesn't  _feel_  right."

"No, I can feel the others - all three of them - in the immediate area," Jean furrowed her brow in concentration. "I just can't seem to get a  _lock_  on where they are. Something's interfering with my telepathy."

"Let's draw them out then," Dr. McCoy whispered. Kurt and Ms. Agent MacTaggert were crouched just across the way, hiding behind an overturned car and separated from the others by a few meters. Kurt had suggested this, reasoning that if the team was spotted, they at least wouldn't be spotted all together. "Nightcrawler, as soon as we distract them, you Agent MacTaggert get in there."

" _Ja,_ " Kurt nodded, wrapping his fingers around Ms. Agent MacTaggert's hand. He glanced at his passenger and again, fighting the urge to blush. While Wanda was the girl for him, it didn't change the fact that the agent was still really,  _really_ pretty (for an older lady, at least). Dr. McCoy took a deep breath and stood, walking out into the open.

Not even a moment later, a silver shadow careened around the side of the pyramid, zooming straight towards the blue man.  _Why does that look familiar...?_  Kurt frowned and squeezed his passenger's hand tighter. The sliver streak gracefully pulled to a stop not far  _above_  where Dr. McCoy stood. As the young mutant beat his metallic wings to hover in the air, the indigo teen's heart sank like a stone.

 _It's the angel from Berlin?!_ His teeth chattered in fear as memories of the fight cage came rushing back. _But how...?!_

Before he could complete his thought, the angel flexed his wings sharply and several deadly feathers detached, darting like bullets towards an unprotected Dr. McCoy. Jean screamed as she jumped up, unintentionally revealing her and Scott's position. She threw up her hands and instantly, broken building parts flew into the air, forming a blockage all around them and absorbing the metal feathers just seconds before they killed the scientist. The angel growled but before he could press his attack, Jean flicked her wrists and sent the debris and feathers soaring towards him. He rolled out of the way, but not quickly enough; one of the stones clipped his left wing hard, causing him to veer wildly to the side. He regained his composure right above where Kurt crouched fearfully, looking up in the sky.

 _I hope he doesn't remember me_ , the teen swallowed hard. The young mutant looked down at him, his eyes going wide.

"It's  _YOU!_ " He snarled in German, baring his teeth and beating his wings harder. "You're the  _asshole_  who burned my wing!"

_Well, dang it._

Without waiting for the outcome, Kurt vanished with the agent in tow. They appeared just inside the doorway's shadows. Ms. Agent MacTaggert released his hand and ran the nearest wall, tracing the ancient writing with her fingers as she mumbled the incantations under her breath. Kurt stole a glance outside. Chaos erupted where they'd just stood; lighting flashed from somewhere he couldn't see and a purple-haired woman appeared out of nowhere, racing forward and brandishing both a sword and a glowing whip. Meanwhile, the angel looked around wildly for his prey. Kurt bit his lip as his teammates scattered, drawing the horsemen away. He crossed himself quickly and prayed that Saint Adrian, the patron saint of warriors, was watching over his friends.

"Take us down two passageways and then make a right. We should arrive a giant obelisk," Ms. Agent MacTaggert linked her arm through his. Kurt wasn't sure what an  _obelisk_  was, but he figured if it was giant, he'd know it when they saw it. He moved them according to the agent's directions, stopping for a few seconds in between each teleport so she could catch her breath and check the various inscriptions. As long as he didn't teleport too rapidly, Ms. Agent MacTaggert should be alright. He knew from experience if he moved a passenger too fast and too many times in a row, they'd get sick or even pass out.

As Kurt waited for the agent to decipher another set of inscriptions, his thoughts wandered, and he caught himself thinking what happened at the house.  _Raven kissed Azazel!_  Kurt fought hard to hide his growing smile. It was proof enough for him that she still had feelings for Azazel, and that they might actually have a shot at reconciling as a  _real family_  when this was all over. He already knew Azazel still had feelings for Raven from the way he'd wrapped his tail around her wrist in the helicopter, not to mention how flustered he was after she kissed him in front of the whole team. Clarice already warned him that Azazel wasn't the most outwardly affectionate person, so he shouldn't expect much in the way of hugs or anything like that from his father.  _He's more of a... I dunno..._ knives _kinda guy, I guess?_ His aunt's voice echo in his memories.  _Speaking of knives._.. Kurt brushed his fingers against the beautiful dagger strapped to his wrist. The metal blended in so perfectly with his flight suit that the blade was almost invisible. Just before leaving the house, Azazel tied the small sword to Kurt's wrist as a ' _just-in-case,_ ' even though his role was just to transport everyone back to the house. It was the same dagger he'd given Kurt earlier at the military base, but this time, Azazel told Kurt it was his to keep, and Azazel would keep its twin. Through it, he felt connected to his father, more so than...

 _Kurt, you have to hurry!_  Jean's voice popped in his head, startling the teen from his reminiscing.

"We're  _trying_ , but it's like a  _maze_  in here!" He said out loud. Ms. Agent MacTaggert glanced over, raising an eyebrow. Kurt pointed at his head to let her know it was Jean.

"There! I think I found it!" The agent said triumphantly a moment later, seizing Kurt's hand. "Jump us down one more passage and then make two quick lefts; that should land us right at the inner chamber." Kurt closed his eyes and concentrated. They moved quickly and silently, like shadows.

" _Charles!_ " The agent whispered excitedly as soon as they appeared. She dropped Kurt's hand and raced forward. Kurt looked over and saw two giant stone slabs not far away, both pulsating faintly with a strange glow. He took a few steps closer; sure enough, his uncle lay on the slab closest to them and wrapped in the same funny blue and gold light like a butterfly in its cocoon.

" _Uncle Professor!_ " Kurt chirped happily, running over. He vaguely heard Ms. Agent MacTaggert mumble something like  _'uncle?'_ as he approached the slab from the other side, smiling happily. She gave at Kurt quizzical look before clamping her hands over her mouth as if in shock. Kurt's smile fell when he looked down at the telepath.

The man had his eyes squeezed shut and he was thrashing violently, muttering " _Get out! Get out!_ " like a record stuck on repeat. Kurt waved his hand in front of his face and Ms. Agent McTaggert called his name again, but the man was oblivious that his rescue had arrived. Kurt glanced fearfully at the other table, getting his first look at the mysterious En Sabah Nur. The man was terrifying, far more than the Wolfman or Dracula or the Blob or any of the villains from Kurt's beloved horror movies, mostly because this monster was real and harming his family.

"Ignore him," the agent said as she started prying on the restraints pining Uncle Professor to his table. "Nur won't wake up until we release Charles from their shared trace. Here, help me with these."

"They're too  _strong_ ," Kurt frowned as he pulled at the nearest restraint. He felt all around it, but it seemed to be made from one solid piece. "I can't find a latch to release it."

"If only we had a knife," Ms. Agent MacTaggert lamented, pulled hard on the restraint.

 _A knife!_  Kurt quickly slipped his dagger off his wrist, showing it to the surprised agent with a smile. Using the hilt end, he bashed it hard against the restraint. Sure enough, a small crack appeared. After a few more whacks, the restraint crumbled and Kurt moved onto the next one. In a few minutes, Uncle Professor was free.

"Ok, let's go!" Kurt refastened his dagger and held out his arms to grab both his passengers. This place was giving him the creeps, and he didn't want to stay one second longer than necessary.

"Hang on!" The agent started unzipping the front of her suit.  _What is she... ?_  Suddenly, she reached deep into her cleavage.

" _Ms. MacTaggert! W_ _hat... what_ are you _doing?_ " Kurt stammered, holding up his hands to block his view even as he cast his eyes towards his feet. He could practically feel heat radiating off his blushing cheeks. Whatever she was doing now, it was  _not_  part of Jean's original plan.

"Here it is!" The agent smiled as she held a small black cylinder in the air, fixing her suit.

"What's that?" Kurt looked back shyly, trying desperately not to think about  _where_  the cylinder had just been.

"A micro-grenade I found at the base. It might look small but trust me, it'll be a  _big_   _surprise_  for this  _asshole,_ " She nodded to the unconscious En Sabah Nur. "Are you ready? The instant we move Charles, Nur will wake up, and that's when I'll detonate and drop the grenade. We'll only have five seconds to get out of here."

"Ok, well  _don't_  pull the pin until I..."

Kurt's words were lost he was ripped away the table and slammed violently into a wall. He melted to the floor, and pain echoed though his entire body as he lay in a crumpled heap. He pushed himself up quickly, coughing flecks of blood. He was vaguely aware of Ms. Agent MacTaggert screaming and he looked over, his head aching and his vision blurred from the unexpected impact.

What he saw made his blood run cold; they'd been too focused on finding Uncle Professor to realized they had been followed.


	42. Confrontations

"Ok, take a  _deep breath,_ " Peter instructed, placing his hands firmly on Raven's lower back and neck. "We're gonna run on the count of three, yeah?"

She nodded but still tensed slightly at his touch; she'd actually never experienced Peter's mutation, seeing how she and Azazel arrived  _outside_  the school when it exploded. She took one last, fleeting glance at the house behind her. While she couldn't see them, she knew somewhere on the second floor, Azazel and Wanda were watching.

" _One_..."

Despite their circumstances, part of Raven was rather  _curious_  as to what moving at light speed felt like.

" _Two_..."

She wondered if it would feel anything like teleporting, or if transportation mutations shared any quirks. The first time she ever teleported, she promptly threw-up on Erik's shoes the second they reappeared, far away from Cuba (and much to Azazel's amusement).

" _Three!_ "

... Suddenly, Raven was standing atop a semi-destroyed building just inside Erik's metal cyclone. She quickly took a step forward and nearly collapsed, bracing her hands on her knees as she doubled over.

"Don't worry, it'll pass," Peter reassured as he lightly patted her back. "It happens to everyone; you'll feel better in a minute." She nodded again, unable to summon her voice as she panted. She felt nauseous and weak in the knees, and she was reeling against a wicked vertigo. Thankfully, Peter had the foresight to hold her arm while she regained her composure. _It seems all transportation mutations had_ disorientation _in common_ , she thought,  _at least until one got used to them_.

"So... you  _like_  Red Five, huh?" Raven glanced over, arching her eyebrow at Peter's small talk. The silver-haired youth merely shrugged and offered a friendly grin. "Look, you seem really nice, so I'll let you in on something: I asked Clarice once about Red Dude, and she said he's still pretty hung up on his  _ex_ , even though the woman peaced-out on them like,  _fifteen_  or something years ago. Just so you know, he might not be interested in dating, if that's your end-game, and honestly, I don't blame him!" Peter then dropped his voice to an almost conspiratorial whisper.

"Apparently his ex was a total  _nut-bag_  who ran off after they..."

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

" _Shut up_."

"Righty-o!" Peter cheerfully pushed his goggles up on his forehead, pinning back his unruly hair.  _Nothing seemed to ruffle this kid's feathers, except..._ Raven looked up and for the first time, realized that  _Erik_  hovered not too far from here they stood. The metal bender was floating almost serenely inside a thin magnetic bubble. His eyes were closed, and sure enough, he hadn't seen or heard their presence just a few meters below. She nodded towards the inner barrier and Peter disappeared in a silver blur. Not a moment later he reappeared at her side, this time pursing his lips.

"I can't get in," he frowned, pushing against it with his hands. His hands were too fast for her to see their movement, but she could see the barrier vibrate, but remain intact. "The magnetic field is  _too_  strong."

"We're just going to have to yell loud enough to get his attention then." Raven stood up and eyed Peter warily. He'd suddenly lost a bit of his confident glow and looked shakier than she would have liked, given the importance of the task ahead. "Are  _you_  sure you're ready for this?"

"Yeah," he swallowed hard, "I came here for him. I can do this."

"Remember what I told you at the base," Raven coached. "Make sure he knows who you are, but don't expect a hug. At least, not immediately. Got it?"

Peter nodded, but this time remained silent, his gaze now fixed on his estranged father. Raven cupped her mouth to amplify her voice.

" _Erik!_ "

The metal bender's eyes fluttered open and he looked around. When his eyes landed on Raven, astonishment registered on his face.

"...  _Mystique?_ " There was a gentle tone of surprise in his voice, so he wasn't  _unhappy_  to see her. The metal surrounding him continued to hum unabated but slowed its upward journey into the sky; nothing to suggest an immediate attack or ill will. "What... what are  _you_  doing here?"

_So far, so good._

"Erik,  _listen_  to me!" The blue woman beseeched. "I know you think you lost  _everything_ , but you  _haven't!_  You have  _me_ , you have  _Charles..._ you have more  _family_  than you know! You never had the chance to save your  _family_  before, but you do now. That's what  _we've_  come here to tell you!"

Raven paused and turned to Peter, but the speedster continued to be transfixed by Erik, not picking up on her cue to jump in. She bit her lip.  _Any time now, Peter._

"And you?" Erik turned slightly and addressed the speedster, almost spurring him back to action.

"Do you remember me?" There was an eagerness in Peter's voice, like a puppy bringing a favored toy its master. "Remember, I helped you break out of super-prison like ten years ago?  _Um_ , I cut my hair since then, but otherwise, I think I look pretty much the same."

"Why are you here?" Erik redirected his question. The speedster glanced nervously at Raven, and she saw that he was trembling slightly. She gave him the most encouraging smile she could muster and motioned for him to continue.  _Come on,_ she rallied internally, _it's now or never!_

"I'm... well, I mean I was  _told_  that... I'm  _your_...  _I'mhereformyfamilytoo!_ " His words came out jumbled and as soon as he uttered them, he looked at his feet, flexing his fingers at his sides nervously. After a few seconds, there was a distinct shift in the air; metal started flying back up into the sky. Raven could practically feel Erik losing interest in them. They had to get his attention back and  _fast_ , if they had any shot at disarming him.

Raven nudged Peter's shoulder hard, prompting him to try again.

"Ok, so  _uh_..." He took a deep breath and faced Erik again. "Did you ever used to go to a bar called the  _California Clipper_? Like back in 1957? It's in Chicago, and I think it's on Augusta and California Boulevards. I mean, I guess that's how it got it's name, right? I mean  _'California Boulevard'_ and all. I was actually born in Chicago, but we moved when I was a little kid, so I've never actually been to the bar, or back to Chicago for that matter..."

Raven blinked slowly at Peter as he rambled on and gazed ardently into the sky.

_I am going to fucking kill him._

Before she could halt his nonsense chattering, the blue women suddenly felt a distinct  _change_  around them. She glanced back at Erik; the man was now tilting his head as if actually considering the boy's words. The magnetic field encasing him was rippling slightly, like waves in a pond. Raven looked around and saw large metal objects pause in their upward trajectory. Whatever the hell Peter was going on about, it had sparked Erik's interested and surprisingly, seemed to be  _working_. Dumbfounded, she crossed her arms and let him continue.

"Ok, so like I was saying, there was this bar called the  _California Clipper_? I think it was nautical themed, but again, I've never been there so..."

" _Yes_ , I know the  _Clipper_ ," Erik interrupted. "What's your  _point_?"

"Right. Ok, yeah. My  _point_. So at the California Clipper this bartender used to work there, and her name was  _Magda_? Magda  _Maximoff_? She had, er, well  _has_  dark red hair and silver eyes... does that sound familiar?"

"... You  _know_  Magda?" Erik's eyes glimmered with recognition.

"Yeah, I know Magda! I'm like... well, I  _am_  her son," Peter swallowed thickly. "I was born in Chicago in '58. I never got to tell you my name when I helped you escape, but it's  _Peter_. Peter Jakob Maximoff."

"...  _Jakob_?" Eric's voice wavered quietly. Raven watched as all around them metal fell out of the sky. Still hovering, for the first time, Erik turned fully to face them. He paused for a long moment, seeming to now observe Peter with the same expression the speedster had been watching him.

 _Jakob was Erik's father's name._ The implication of what Peter just did hit Raven like a ton of bricks, and she smiled softly. They might actually have a real shot at this.

* * *

Azazel discreetly watched the Cairo landscape from the veiled window, highly displeased with his present circumstances. His entire chest was starting to ache, and he tried breathing as shallowly as possible. It wasn't the first time he'd fractured his ribs. They were  _annoying_  injuries, unable to be set in a cast and taking up to eight weeks to fully heal. There wasn't much to be done to heal them faster; his only options were bed rest and avoiding strenuous activity, like sword work, or teleporting.

 _Or sex_.

Azazel frowned harder.

After a few more minutes he signed angrily and turned away, looking over the little house he and Wanda were... _guarding,_ as Jean so kindly described it.  _Babysitting is more like it_ , he sneered. In their greatest hour of need, here he stood, the most highly trained fighter among them feeling nothing short of incredibly  _useless,_ waiting around to be a  _taxi_.

"There, that's the last of it!" Wanda brushed off her hands and admired the blockade of furniture she'd created, her cheery demeanor a foil to Azazel's sour mood. Shortly after he and Moira rejoined the team everyone relocated to the house's second floor. It was a tactical move, since Kurt and Azazel could easily teleport them into or out of space. After the other teams left, Wanda used most of the room's furniture to block the staircase so they could better defend the second floor if needed, with the added bonus of creating an large open space to ensure that neither Kurt nor his passengers would bump into anything upon their return.

 _Speaking of Kurt_... Azazel's mood lifted slightly as he thought of his son. The boy had certainly impressed him. He'd teleported  _six_  passengers to a safe house he couldn't see, and he recovered from the strenuous jump fairly quickly. That was quite a feat for an untrained teleporter; the red mutant was beginning to suspect that Kurt was a lot stronger than they both realized. With practice he'd should be able to increase his stamina, possibly even match Azazel's abilities one day. When they got back to Westchester and things returned to normal, he planned to start working with Kurt on teleporting. Azazel had learned to push the limits of his mutation when he was much younger. Of course, he'd be much  _gentler_  training Kurt. His KGB trainers realized early on that stress and fear were excellent motivators with their mutants, so at age ten or eleven, Azazel found himself locked in a wooden box and thrown into a lake. If he wanted to live, he had to learn to teleport  _without_  seeing his destination and  _fast._ To this day, Azazel still wasn't overly fond of lakes or swimming. He'd spoken with Erik about such methods one night when they first joined as the Brotherhood. Azazel been  _appalled_  to learn that Shaw was a fan of such training methods, and of torturing children to see how far he could push them. Had he known this, he would have killed Shaw himself, contract or not.

Honestly, Azazel never really did get to know Shaw well. He'd been essentially one of two hired guns; Azazel from the KGB, Janos from the Spanish Mafia. The first time Azazel laid eyes on Shaw was during a meeting arranged by a KGB handler. All Azazel knew was that a rich and powerful man was willing to pay handsomely for a 'body guard' and 'quick transportation,' both of which Azazel could easily provide. The red mutant had been mildly impressed when Shaw didn't react to his sudden appearance in the middle of the room. Of course at that time, Azazel had no idea Shaw was a mutant himself. The man offered a charming smile and stood to shake Azazel's hand before walking around and looking him over like some kind of prized racehorse. During their initial meeting, however, it was  _Emma_  who really impressed Azazel. The bombshell blonde had been sitting silently next to Shaw, and while Shaw negotiated Azazel's contract with the handler, she examined at her manicure with disinterest. Azazel took the opportunity to steal a discrete glance at her.

 _Legs for days,_ he remembered thinking as he admired Emma's short white dress.  _What I'd like to do with her..._

 _Think about fucking me for one second longer_ , she looked up and batted her eyelashes sweetly,  _I'll make you think you're trapped in that box and drowning forever._  For the briefest second, Azazel was suddenly a child again, water dripping on his face in the darkness as he panicked, struggling to vanish. As soon as the nightmare started it faded, leaving him in wide-eyed shock as Emma continued to watch him patiently. He recognized her immediately as a mutant like he was, and a powerful one at that. He nodded respectfully at her, and she return the gesture. In that moment, Azazel suddenly knew he'd accept the job no matter what.

When he first joined Shaw's team, he'd been young and rash and still filled with so much anger at the world that for years he happily took it out on anyone Shaw pointed to. That fateful day on the beach, he didn't fight Raven's team as hard as he could have; after the night at the CIA compound, both he and Janos were growing disillusioned with Shaw's tactics (neither agreed with the murder of the young black mutant or Shaw's decision to leave Emma to rot in prison). This was why - as he explained to Raven over a little too much to drink one night - both men so easily transferred their allegiances to Erik at Cuba. While Azazel didn't necessarily regret his time with Shaw, and of course, working with the man had an indirectly positive benefit; Shaw brought him Erik, who in turn introduced him to Raven, who then gave him the best parts of his life and most importantly, she gave him Clarice and Kurt.

"Are you hurt?" Wanda asked quietly, interrupting his private musings. She motioned to his right side. Azazel looked down and rolled his eyes, pulling his hand away from his side. He'd been unknowingly holding his ribs again while lost in thought.

"I am  _fine_."

"Because if you're hurt, maybe I could...?" She held up her hands and Azazel suddenly remembered the blinding pain of her healing along with her admission  _'...or I can make things turn inside out.'_  He took a step back, holding up his hands.

" _Nyet!_ " He said quickly, far more panicked than he intended judging by her sudden frown. He forced a polite smile, trying to downplay his reaction. "I am fine,  _really_. But,  _thank you_."

"So..." She grinned and crossed her arms, gazing up at him. "Are you and Raven  _dating_  now?"

"It is..." he struggled, alarmed at the thought of where she was going with this. "...  _Complicated?"_

"Well, she  _definitely_  likes you!" Wanda giggled. "And if you  _like_  her, you should totally ask her out after this. You know, when we get home, I think..."

Azazel rubbed his forehead vigorously as Wanda continued to talk. Here he was, watching the end of the world while listening a  _teenage girl_  give him advice on his  _love life_. Somewhere out there, he could almost  _hear_  Clarice laughing at him. He paused for a second, thinking about Little Sister, suddenly struck by how much he  _missed_  her. He hoped Clarice and the others were fairing alright back in America. If he trusted anyone to keep those children safe, it was her.

"... and, you'd be a  _really_  cute couple, and..."

"Why are you  _nyet_ afraid of me?" He interrupted Wanda's prattling, desperate to change the subject. He'd rather be getting punched in his broken ribs than talking about his personal life  _one second_  longer.

"If you lived with Peter's pranks for most of you life, you wouldn't be afraid of much either," she snorted. "Why do you ask?  _Should_  I be afraid of you? You seem nice enough."

"After what you saw in...  _Dr. McCoy's room_ ," Azazel hesitated as he regarded Wanda. He had wondered how she could be so unhesitatingly  _friendly_  when she had seen the same horrors Kurt and the other teens did a week before. Even Jean and Scott had seemed a touch fearful around him when they first reunited.

"I come back today and you are  _nyet_  afraid to be around me, even after everything you saw. Why is this?"

"Well, my family isn't Catholic and we never went to church, so the whole  _'devil stuff'_  doesn't really work on me. And, I'll be  _honest_ ," she shrugged sheepishly, just like her brother, "I woke up on the helicopter when you were talking with Kurt. I didn't sit up because it sounded like you and he were having a private moment and I didn't want to intrude. But, I overheard you tell him about the boy you killed when you were young, and how you wished you had a school like ours to go to instead of... well, whatever you grew up with. And I figured out on my own that what you were doing, maybe you did it because you didn't really a choice, not like we have. I know a lot of mutants in your shoes had it much harder growing up, especially since you have a physical mutation and all. I mean, have you ever even  _walked_  down a busy street just once in your life?"

" _Nyet_ ," Azazel shook his head. "Very few places I can show my face safely back home, or even outside your school. I am always have to be hiding. Thankfully, am  _good_  at hiding," he added with a smirk.

"Yeah, at least you have a  _useful_  mutation," she sighed.

" _What?_  Why would you say this?" He frowned. "You have very  _useful_  mutation! You healed me, remember?"

"Yeah,  _right_. I can  _kinda_  heal things sometimes, but mostly all I do it set stuff on fire."

"You should be proud of yourself Wanda. You have  _nyet_  training and yet you put yourself in danger to save idiot brother,  _nyet_  hesitations. You are fighting for your family, for those you love."

"Is that why you're here?" She raised her eyebrow. "Did you come here for Raven?"

"Am here for my  _family_ ," Azazel motioned out the window. "My  _entire_  mutant family."

They stood side-by-side in silence for a few moments, each lost in personal thoughts as they gazed across the foreign landscape. Somewhere out there were their families, fighting for everything they held dear.

"You really like Kurt,  _da_?" The red man asked eventually, quirking his eyebrow. Wanda blushed and nodded, grinning as she looked down and tucked her hair nervously behind her ear. Her sudden bashfulness was rather endearing, and Azazel couldn't help wanting to smile. "May I inquire why?"

"Kurt was the first guy who... I dunno, made an effort to get to know me? To get to know the  _real_  me?" Wanda paused, watching small sparks leap from her fingers. She then turned and looked up at Azazel, her silver eyes wide and honest. "Look, what I'm going to say next is going to sound like such conceited  _shit_ , but... I  _know_  I'm pretty. Guys have been hitting on me since I was  _twelve_. But, Kurt is the first guy who's ever gone past my looks and asked me about the books I read or my opinions on political issues and academics, and he's not doing it to be polite or just make small talk. He really wants to hear my opinion, and he really  _listens_  when I talk, and I can talk to him about anything. We can talk for hours, but I also like the silences too. Like we can sit together and read and not say a word, and then all of a sudden, start talking about everything and nothing. And when he looks at me, he makes me feel like there's no one else in his world, like I'm really special. I don't feel like a stepping stone; I feel like the journey's destination. Does that make any sense?"

He considered her words for a few seconds before nodding. It was the most he'd ever heard the girl talk at once, and the depth of her feelings and insight surprised him.

"Besides," Wanda grinned and laid her head innocently against Azazel's left shoulder. "Blue is my  _favorite_  color."

For the first time that day, he couldn't help but laugh.

"You know what?" Azazel wrapped his arm around her shoulders in a fatherly way. "Is my favorite color too."

* * *

 _Thank God for my blue skin_ , Kurt thought as he slipped into a pool of shadows nearby. A heartbeat later, the angel careened around the corner, viciously beating his wings and clenching his jaw as he looked around for his devilish prey. Seconds after the initial strike, the indigo teen recovered enough to lure the winged mutant away from Ms. Agent MacTaggert and Uncle Professor. He took advantage of his temporarily camouflage to plan a counterattack. He was still terrified of the angel, but everyone was depending on him, and Kurt wasn't going to left fear hold him back any longer.

As soon as the angel turned away, Kurt exploded from the shadows, teleporting directly onto his back. Seizing both of his wings, Kurt pulled back hard to prevent them from beating, forcing the angel into a wild free-fall. The young mutant yelped as he slammed into a wall and then landed hard on the ground, rolling on his side. Kurt teleported at the last minute to avoid the collision. When he reappeared, the teen slashed at his foe using his tail. The other mutant reacted faster than anticipated, and in one fluid motion, he snatched Kurt's tail just above its spade and yanked him violently forward. The young teleporter tripped, performing an unplanned somersault and managing to toss himself over the angel's head. He vanished quickly to avoid hitting the wall, only this time - still holding onto Kurt's tail - the other mutant vanished with him. When they reappeared, the winged mutant released his tail and took a shaky step forward and stumbled, clearly disoriented.

 _Of course!_  Kurt whipped his tail tightly around the angel's wrist. Before the young mutant could react, Kurt teleported as fast as he could, each jump moving him and his unwilling passenger further away from the inner chamber. Eventually the two appeared high in the sky outside the pyramid. Several times the angel clawed at Kurt's face, tried to slam them into walls, and once even punched him (pretty good too, Kurt's swollen lower lip was letting him know), but the teen's rapid teleports had the desired effect: the angel was growing weaker and more disoriented after each jump.

Kurt spied the steel ribs of a fallen commercial airliner as the pair began slipping towards the ground. Baring his fangs in a snarl, the indigo teen preformed his  _grande finale_  - a complicated series of flips and spins, all from his Munich Circus aerial routine - coupled with as many rapid teleports as he could muster. Right when he saw the angel was on the verge of passing out, Kurt dove straight for the steel ribs of the broken plane.

When the smoke cleared, he stood firmly on the ground, his flight suit clinging to him with sweat and his chest heaving as he turned to look behind him. Trapped inside the makeshift steel cage, the angel took a few uncertain steps, his wings pluming out awkwardly as he tried and failed to gain his footing.

"Ich sage jetzt a _uf Weidersehen_ , mein Freund!" The indigo teen hissed triumphantly in their shared tongue as he ripped his tail away. The angel took one last look at Kurt before his eyes rolled back and crumpled to the ground like a rag doll, knocked out cold. How long the cage would hold him after he woke up, Kurt could only guess, but the plan had bought the time he needed.

 _Hurry Kurt!_  Jean's voice echoed in his head like an alarm. _We're losing him!_

In a heartbeat, young teleporter was back inside the tomb standing next to Ms. Agent MacTaggert and Uncle Professor.

"Time to go!" Kurt held his arms open wide. The agent took the grenade and in one swift movement, twisted off its pin and threw it at En Sabah Nur as she pulled Uncle Professor out of his cocoon, cradling him in her arms. The telepath took one long, shuddering breath and screamed.

The indigo teen leaped forward and wrapped both of his arms and tail protectively around his passengers. He didn't need anyone to tell him twice to hurry up. Closing his eyes, he concentrated as hard as he could on reaching the second floor of the safe house.

Kurt felt an unbelievable heat igniting the world around him, and the last thing he heard was En Sabah Nur roaring with rage as the trio vanished into thin air.


	43. The Missing

The bricks under Raven's feet rocked violently as an earsplitting eruption echoed nearby. Her attention snapped swiftly in the sound's direction. She screamed and instinctively threw her arms up as large chunks of debris whipped towards their perch with alarming speed. Peter lunged forward but even his mutation couldn't move them in time; all he could do was throw his arms around Raven, shielding her in a final act of chivalry as they both braced for the fatal collision.

After a few seconds  _without_  impact, Raven blinked. Her golden eyes met Peter's silver ones. He panted hard and raised his eyebrow, clearly as confused as she as to why they hadn't just been crushed to death. As the two mutants stood, Peter gasped quietly. Raven watched him reach out and lightly touch the shimmering metal ribbons that rippled like water all around them. Beyond the thin barrier dust pooled and the deadly debris lay shattered just a few feet away. It took Raven a few seconds to realize that she and Peter were now  _inside_  Erik's magentic shield. The sapphire woman turned back and looked towards the metal bender. His face was screwed up in deep concentration and his arms shaking as he extended his personal barrier to protect all three. Raven wasn't sure  _what_  happened to amp up Erik's mutation, but his powers had reached an almost frightening level of control.

"Thanks man!" Peter grinned and gave him a thumb's up. He nodded cordially before flicking his wrists. The barrier then receded, leaving Raven and Peter now safely exposed. She shielded her eyes, quickly scanning the direction where the eruption emanated.

What she saw made her blood run cold.

" _Charles...?!_ " Raven whimpered, one quivering hand covering her mouth. She didn't know  _what_  caused that jarring noise, but she did know there was now a  _gaping hole_  in the side of the pyramid with venomous smoke piping out. When Peter saw the tomb's extensive damage, his mouth hung open in shock; for once, even  _he_  had nothing to say. The entire Cairo landscape seemed frozen in the wake of this unplanned development. Raven caught Peter's eye and the youth nodded in unspoken agreement. They'd been making real progress with Erik, but this sudden event had forced their hand. They had to see what happened, and make sure Charles was safe.  _And, make sure Kurt got out in time_. The thought alone put more ice in Raven's veins. She turned once more towards Erik.

"I'm going to go fight for what I have left," she said defiantly, almost challenging her former friend. "Are  _you_?"

Erik held her gaze steady for a long moment before biting his lip and looking away.  _Fine_ , she narrowed her eyes and scowled internally.  _Stay here and rot._ He could turn his back on Charles and the rest of the world, but she wasn't going to.

"Quicksilver?" She motioned to Peter. The silver-haired mutant took a few steps towards her before glancing over his shoulder.

"Hey, um...  _Magneto_?" He nodded towards the pyramid and waved for him to follow, but Erik made no move. Peter stopped and turned to face him, his features contorted in dubiety. After a short pause, surprise registered across his face as the puzzle pieces neatly slipped together: Erik  _wasn't_  going with them.

" _Quicksilver?_ " Raven quietly urged, but Peter remained rooted in place.

"But... but he's your  _friend!_ " The youth pleaded, staring up at his estranged father. "You have a chance to change this, to save your  _friend!_  And what, you're just gonna stay here and do  _nothing?!_ "

Erik's frown set harder, but the man didn't response. Eventually, he sighed and looked down at Peter, now shaking his head. Raven moved closer and laid her hand on Peter's forearm. She knew there was no reasoning with Erik at this point, but Peter had worked himself up to the point where he was shaking shaking slightly. The blue woman was surprised to see anger now marring his normally cheery expression. The speedster's unbending positive nature, his belief that people are generally good if just given the chance, and - Raven was  _sure_  - his fervent hope that  _his own father_  would see the error of his ways if just given the right encouragement - was fracturing before Peter's eyes.

" _Whatever,_ man!" Her jerked away from Raven, now scowling openly at Erik as he pointed to the fallen city behind them. "I have a  _sister_  out there, and a  _mother_ , and a  _girlfriend,_ and whole bunch of other people who could have given up on me too, but they  _didn't!_  And they're worth  _fighting_  for!"

"You don't understand..." Erik started, holding up his hands.

"Oh no, I  _understand!"_ The silver-haired youth spit back fiercely. "I understand  _perfectly_!"

Raven tried again to intercede, but Peter only took another step towards Erik, now jabbing a finger up at him.

"I got news for you: that  _blue asshole_  in the pyramid isn't gonna  _magically_  bring back your  _wife_  or  _daughter_. None of this destruction you're causing is gonna bring them back. But  _you_  still have a chance to fight for people who care about you; for people who could have given up on you but  _didn't!_ "

This time Erik looked away. After a few more seconds of silence, Peter shook his head and turned on his heel swiftly, marching back to Raven.

"You know what? Mom was  _right_  about you!" He angrily wiped away tears with the back of his hand before roughly snapping his goggles on. "I don't need another  _deadbeat dad_  in my life!"

" _Peter...?!_ "

But Raven and Peter disappeared before Erik could say anything beyond his son's name.

* * *

Azazel saw the pyramid's side burst into ruin seconds before the explosion's aftershock reached their safe house. It was just enough time to push Wanda behind him as the windows blew in, raining glass like ticker-tape confetti throughout the interior.

"Are you alright?" Azazel asked, unwrapping his arms from Wanda when the aftershock passed. She was shaking and badly frightened, but outside of a few superficial scrapes, she thankfully appeared unharmed. As he brushed the broken glass off his arms and legs, for the first time, Azazel was  _glad_  for the team's thick Kevlar flight suits.

"What  _was_  that?" Wanda asked as she pulled glass shards from her hair. Azazel frowned and shook his head.

"I do  _nyet_..."

Suddenly, a  _BAMF_  of dark smoke burst a few feet behind the pair. Both mutants turned immediately towards the sound. In the middle of the room, Kurt and Moira where clasped tightly together and kneeling on the floor, both breathing hard as if they'd just finishing running a marathon. When they pulled apart - almost like an  _impossible_  desert mirage - Charles slipped out of their arms and onto the Persian carpet underneath them.

Wanda gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth in shock. In two quick strides Azazel stood by Moira's side. He dropped to his knees next to Charles. The man was shaking violently and almost in a frenzy, gnashing his teeth and muttering incoherently as Moira fought to hold him down by his shoulders. The red mutant put his hand over Charles's, but at his touch, the telepath's eyes snapped open and he clawed at Azazel, baring his teeth like an animal. Azazel scrambled back from Charles so fast that he landed on his backside. He stared at his comrade in disbelief. The telepath glared back and did not seem to recognize him in the least.

" _GET OUT!_ " Charles's nostrils flared as he screamed. " _GET OUT!_ "

 _He seems... possessed?_ Azazel frowned hard, deeply unsettled by the man's behavior. He climbed back to his knees, his tail flicking behind him as he raised a worried eyebrow at Moira.

"What is... ?"

" _We need Jean!_ " The agent fought hard to keep Charles pinned down as he started to thrash again. She looked to Kurt, her hazel eyes pleading. " _Hurry!_  She's the  _only one_  who can get inside his head!"

"I will be right back," Kurt cleared his throat, looking eerily calm as he brushed off his suit. He then gave Azazel a half-smile. At least, that's what it  _looked_  like; Azazel realized that Kurt's bottom lip was so swollen it wouldn't allow for a full smile. "Don't leave without me, Ok?"

" _Why_  would I... ?" But the grinning boy vanished in a cloud of inky shadow before Azazel could finish his question. The man shook his head; he wondered briefly if Kurt had hit  _his_  during the rescue mission.

He turned his attention back to Charles. Taking a cue from Moira, Azazel straddled Charles's legs and seized his hands, pinning them to the floor to prevent the man from hurting himself or anyone else. For added safety, he secured Charles's ankles his tail (paralyzed or not, the man's wild flailing was making his legs to trash too). Wanda appeared with a pillow which she quickly wedged under the man's head. As they restrained Charles, Azazel wondered what happened to Kurt - his lip was clearly bruised and he had several cuts on him - when seconds later, he reappeared with Jean. The young telepath immediately dropped Kurt's hand and ran to her mentor's side

" _Professor!_ " She cried, falling to the floor. Charles didn't seem to recognize her either, and judging by the way his arm jerked upward and he tried twisting his body, Azazel was positive he would have  _punched_  Jean had both Moira and Azazel not been restraining him. Jean wasted no time putting one hand on the side of Charles's face and the other to her temple. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

" _GET OUT! GET OUT!_ " Charles's voice suddenly raised to a fever pitch as he struggled.

"Professor it's _Ok!_ " Jean encouraged through clenched teeth. A small trickle of blood seeped from her nose as she worked. "You're with  _us_  now! You're  _safe! It's Ok!_ "

Charles's eyes opened wide and he suddenly took one long, ragged breath, his chest lifting towards the ceiling and his entire body going ridged as if in the throws of a seizure. Then, he collapsed on the rug and lay motionless. Only when Azazel felt the aggression recede from Charles's arms did he dare relax his grip and tail. The red mutant sat back, clenching his jaw and putting his hand on his side. The strength necessary to restrain the man aggravated his injury.

"Is he...?" Moira brought her hands to her face, tears pooling as watched Charles's ashen expression. Jean opened her eyes. Charles lay perfectly still, eyes closed, unmoving. No one dared to speak, and everyone in the room was silent.

Waiting.

 _Hoping_.

Then ever-so-slowly, Charles began breathing shallowly. Moira let out a cry and put her hand on the side of Charles's serene face. Jean released the breath she'd been holding and sat back on the floor. Azazel saw she was shaking, and he wondering how close a call it really had been to pull the telepath back from the brink.

"Kurt?" Jean wiped her nosebleed with her sleeve. "You need to get the others; I'll show you where they are." She put her hand again to her temple. Azazel watched Kurt vanish for a third time. With Charles now safely delivered, the red man hoped that Peter and Raven were on their way back. He didn't want to leave Cairo without everyone.

* * *

Kurt was officially on a roll. Even though they weren't  _'out of the woods'_  yet (a  _great_  American colloquialism), the indigo teen felt absolutely  _exhilarated_. First, he cleverly defeated that evil angel; then he helped save Uncle Professor from the clutches of a villainous mastermind; now he was on his way to rescue his last two teammates. He'd done everything asked of him and more; he felt like a rising star.

Kurt concentrated on the first image Jean showed him. It took him a few jumps to nail the location, but soon enough the indigo teen appeared in an alley not far behind Scott. His friend was uttering a battle cry and held his glasses aloft as he discharged his deadly laser vision. On the other end a young African woman flew through the air, wildly dodging his fiery strikes.

 _How many of these mutants can fly? What a cool mutation perk!_  Shaking his head to refocus, Kurt leaped forward and wrapped his arms around Scott's waist.

"Scott,  _glasses on!_ " He commanded. The last thing the young teleporter wanted was to transport Scott  _without_  his protective lenses in place. The teen quickly snapped his glasses on and gave Kurt a thumb's up. No sooner did Kurt appear in the safe house and deposit Scott than he vanished again, now seeking Dr. McCoy. This time Jean's image led him to a rooftop across from where Dr. McCoy was battling a purple haired woman. It took Kurt a few minutes to properly plan his timing; Dr. McCoy and the mystery woman were engaged in some pretty fierce hand-to-hand combat, and Kurt didn't want to accidentally transport  _her_  along with the scientist, or get punched or  _worse_  by accidentally appearing in between the two. He saw his chance when the blue man knocked the women off her feet and roared, pouncing in the air to strike.

"Dr. McCoy,  _behind you!_ " The teen appeared on the scientist's back, twisting his fingers into his fur. The two blue mutants disappeared only to immediately crash into the floor of the safe house. Dr. McCoy jumped to his feet bristling for a fight, but once he recognized his surroundings, he calmed. The indigo teen smiled as he brushed his hands off for a job well done.

"...  _Jean?_ " Uncle Professor suddenly croaked, eliciting a collective sigh of relief from the room. His eyes fluttered open and he weakly reached up toward the redhead.

"We got you Professor," Jean smiled thorough her tears, taking his hand in hers. Scott put his hand on Jean's shoulder and smiled warmly. Wanda jogged over and helped Kurt get up, and he slipped his arm around her waist. Still kneeling, Azazel looked over and nodded respectfully at Kurt. He could see the unmasked pride shining in the man's pale eyes. Kurt suddenly swelled with happiness, feeling like a balloon about to burst.

"It's  _alright_ ," Ms. Agent MacTaggert said as she gently soothed Uncle Professor's hair back. "No one's going to hurt you any..."

" _CHARLES!_ "

The entire room cringed as the demonic voice shattered their hard-won moment of peace.

* * *

Raven and Peter crouched behind an overturned bus, assessing their situation. They'd  _almost_  made it back to the safe house when they saw En Sabah Nur standing in small clearing nearby, bellowing in rage for Charles to appear. The  _good news_  was that this meant Charles hadn't perished in the mysterious explosion. Whatever that was, Kurt and Moira must have interrupted the transfer for En Sabah Nur to chance exposing himself to prowl for his victim. The  _bad news_  was that the blue villain now currently stood between them and the safe house, effectively blocking their chance at meeting-up before the team left Cairo. While Peter could easily run past En Sabah Nur, the speedster's run wasn't exactly  _invisible_. Peter could be "seen" in a silver blur, and in this dry desert environment, he'd kick-up quite a trail of dust. They couldn't chance leading the evil man to the safe house, not if Azazel hadn't gotten Charles out yet, or if Kurt was still transporting Team B's squad back.

Next to her, Peter watched En Sabah Nur with a pensive expression. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet since they'd left Erik. Raven could see residual pain and anger on his face, and it nearly broke her heart that she couldn't do more for Peter other than give his shoulder a gentle pat, letting him know non-verbally that she understood his disappointment. He only nodded before looking way. She wanted to tell Peter that she was  _proud_  of him, for his boldness and his conviction. She knew he hadn't expected an immediate hug from Erik, but she was sure he also hadn't expected his father to turn his really give up on her and Charles. Peter's final exchange seemed to drive home his point; at least Erik now realized without a doubt that Peter was his son by Magda. What Erik would choose to do with that information, Raven couldn't begin to guess. She glanced in the direction they'd run from. The metal cyclone was still spinning in the distance, but all the metal ripping out of the the earth had ceased. At least by giving Erik something to think about, they'd accomplished that much.

"Do you think they're still in the house?" Peter asked quietly.

"I thought I saw some movement in the second floor window a moment, but I'm not sure," she sighed. In retrospect, Raven wished they'd decided on a discrete sign or signal to indicate if the team had vanished. In either case, she  _really_  didn't like En Sabah Nur this close to their designated safe house.  _It's almost... uncanny_ , the blue woman frowned;  _in the entirety of the ruined Egyptian city, why here?_   _What are the chances this man would randomly stumble so close to where we'd planned to bring Charles?_  It was almost like the blue man could somehow  _feel_  that Charles nearby, but he just wasn't able to see him.

It didn't bode well, in any case.

"Do you see any of the other, um...  _horsemen_  around?" Peter glanced about.

"No." Raven shook her head. "I think Team B did a good job luring them away."

"We have to get  _Big Blue Asshole_ away from the safe house if Nightcrawler isn't back with everyone yet." Peter sat back, quietly mulling it over. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and turned to her. "Hey, did you get a good look at the horsemen when they nabbed the Professor?"

"Yeah, I saw them," she confirmed. "Charles showed me a mental snapshot of his abduction."

"Do you think you could  _be_  one?" The silver-haired youth raised a questioning eyebrow.

"...  _Yeah_ , but I couldn't  _talk_ ," Raven tilted her head, wondering where this was going. "I need to hear someone talk to mimic their voice, and they were all silent."

"Talking's not necessary for what I'm thinking." Peter pushed up his goggles and leaned towards her. "I have an idea!"

Raven listened patiently to as Peter explained his plan. She'd heard worse ideas, and it just might be the distraction they needed to buy their teammates time.

* * *

" _SHOW YOURSELF!_ "

The damming voice boomed again, echoing across the desolate landscape. Inside the safe house, the seven teammates cringed again.

"We need to get Charles out of here, and  _fast._ " Dr. McCoy urged as he finished checking his vitals. Charles was very weak, and after calling out Jean's name, he slipped back into an almost comatose state. Azazel stood near the window with his arms crossed lightly, keeping watch outside.  _Everyone was present in the safe house, except..._  He looked at Jean and tilted his head.

"I can't get a lock on Quicksilver or Mystique. I think they might be  _moving,_  and my telepathy can't catch up to his speed." Jean sighed and took her fingers away. Dried blood was caked on her hand. Azazel thought the poor girl was starting to look worn, as if she reaching a breaking point. They all were, really.

"We can't wait for them any longer," Moira added. Azazel looked over the assembled group: Wanda and Kurt stood nearby, hands tightly clasped; Moira and Jean sat on the floor next to Charles; Dr. McCoy and Scott stood just a few feet away. He knew the plan was to leave immediately once Team B was assembled, but part of Azazel hadn't truly believed they'd leave without Raven or Peter. He bit his lip in hesitation, glancing again out the window, almost willing the pair to be seen so he could argue for a moment longer. He was so focused on this thought that he startled slightly when a hand touched his shoulder. He turned, surprised to find Dr. McCoy standing beside him.

"You can come back for her," the man said quietly. "Once we get Charles and the kids somewhere safe, you can come back, and I'll come with you." Azazel resigned with a nod, turning towards his team. As he didn't like it, Raven and Peter had known the risks. The priority was getting Charles somewhere safe, but... no matter how injured he was, Azazel resolved to push himself to make an immediate return jump. He promised Raven he'd follow her, and he promised Little Sister he'd bring back Peter. He wasn't the kind of man who made promises lightly.

"Everyone to me," the red mutant motioned for the team to gather around as he walked towards Charles. He knelt and slid his arm under man's shoulders, propping Charles against his chest and raising his tail in the air. "Will be easier if everyone is touching me directly."

Seven hands grabbed onto to his tail, and Azazel closed his eyes. He'd already decided where he'd take them, and he began picturing the secret, well-stocked safe house in Siberia. If that wasn't far enough away, he didn't know what...

" _SHOW YOURSELF! CHARL...!_ "

Azazel lost his concentration and blinked. The entire exchanged confused glances at one another. En Sabah Nur been on the verge of screaming Charles's name, but something  _interrupted_ him.

Wanda was nearest to the window, and shrieked immediately. She dropped Azazel's tail and bolted.

"Wanda  _nein!_ " Kurt released Azazel's shoulder and disappeared.

"Get  _away_  from the window!" Moira urged, but Dr. McCoy was one step ahead. He leaped away from the group and caught both teens by the back of their flight suits, pulling them to a safe distance less they accidentally reveal their location to anyone outside. Azazel eased Charles into Moira's arms and walked towards the trio. The mutants were staring outside in disbelief. Azazel looked over Wanda's shoulder.

"It's  _Peter!_ " She said as she pointed. Sure enough, he could see a silver blur zooming around, attacking En Sabah Nur viciously.

 _But if that's Peter_ , Azazel frowned as his eyes darted around the clearing,  _then where is Raven?_

* * *

The blue woman hid behind the fallen billboard, secretly watching Peter knock En Sabah Nur around. Untrained or not, she had to admit that he was  _good_ , and administering quite a beating. She just hoped the youth would be able to...

Suddenly Peter came to an abrupt halt, his arms whirling to keep his balance from crashing forward. Raven gasped when she saw that he was now encased in concrete sand almost to his right calf.

" _Foolish child!_ " The blue man hissed. The speedster struggled desperately to free his leg. En Sabah Nur stood poised above him, glaring at Peter with pure hate. Peter bared his teeth and threw a punch, but without his super-speed behind it, the blue man easily stopped his fist. With a delft twist of his hand, the man's superhuman strength dislocated his arm. The speedster screamed, and Raven watched in horror as En Sabah Nur raised his foot high in the air. She barely stopped herself from screaming when his foot came down on Peter's knee, easily shattering the bones beneath.

 _Stick to the plan Raven!_ She coached herself, trying hard to ignore her teammate's painful cries. Peter had a back-up plan for if he was caught by En Sabah Nur, and his back-up plan  _was_ Raven. The blue woman took a deep breath and shifted her scales. She concentrated hard on not shaking as she marched towards En Sabah Nur, now wearing the skin of his horseman Psylocke. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the sword Peter found to prevent her hands from shaking. She had one shot at this, and she couldn't afford to blow her cover by appearing scared or upset.

En Sabah Nur sneered wickedly when he saw her approach. In one hand he clutched Peter's shaggy silver hair. Tears dripped down the youth's face. Raven struggled to keep her expression impassive as she watched Peter fight against the pain.

" _End him!_ " En Sabah Nur commanded as he yanked Peter's head back to expose his vulnerable throat. The false Psylocke nodded obediently. Taking a deep breath, she took aim with her blade and swung.

* * *

" _Whoa!_ "

" _Lemme see!_ "

" _What's going on?!_ "

The teens jockeyed for a view and luckily, Dr. McCoy and Azazel were able to keep them a safe distance from being seen in the window. Azazel watched in confusion as the horseman's blade cut deep into  _En Sabah Nur's_  neck, striking what looked like a killing blow. Then, her skin suddenly rippled into a thousand sapphire waves.

It was...  _Raven!_ Azazel grinned as En Sabah Nur's hands shot to his wounded throat in disbelief.  _She did it! She'd killed...!_

Suddenly, the blue villain began  _laughing_. The cut on his throat started healing rapidly. Azazel heard several gasps from the room; no one knew the man possessed a  _healing mutation_. Raven fearfully stepped back as she realized her error, but he was faster; snarling, he caught before she could run. Azazel felt a murderous anger swelling in him as En Sabah Nur's hands closed in a vice grip around Raven's throat, now lifting her off the ground.

" _Nyet!_ " He growled, drawing his dagger. Before he could vanish, Moira seized his arm and pulled him away. Blind with rage, Azazel almost stabbed her to release him. Behind him, Kurt yelled and rushed forward, but Scott snatched his tail and held him back. Wanda grabbed Kurt's shoulder, pulling him away from Scott. The two teens huddled at the back of the group.

"Azazel,  _no!_ " The red man looked at Moira in feral disbelief. There was  _no way_  he was going to leave Raven or Peter in the clutches of that monster. Before he could say so, she lowered her voice and switched to Russian.

"Listen to me! Take Charles and the kids somewhere safe, then come back to fight. Raven would want you to save  _your son_  before saving her."

" _Everyone now!_ " Azazel roared as he sheathed his blade. He couldn't afford to waste  _one second_ , not with Raven in peril. As maddening as it sounded, Moira was right: Raven would want him to get Charles and the children to safety before rescuing her. If he could drop his group in the Siberian safe house in the next few seconds, he'd could push himself to return immediately and murder that  _sonofabitch_  who dared to lay a finger on Raven. Azazel snatched Charles's limp hand as the team scrambled to grab onto him.

_Scott, Jean, Dr. McCoy, Moira, Charles, and... wait..._

Azazel looked around wildly. _  
_

" _Where are Kurt and Wanda?!_ "


	44. Dad

There were at least a  _million_  reasons for Kurt and Wanda to not leave the safety of the hideout, but the second Kurt saw En Sabah Nur strangling his  _mother_ , not one of those reasons mattered. All it took was one forlorn look at Wanda for him to see that she harbored the same fears for Peter, and the two young mutants clasped hands and vanished before anyone could stop them.

They appeared behind wreckage not far from where En Sabah Nur stood. They hunkered down immediately and kept watchful eyes on the scene before them, mulling over how to proceed from there.

"Think you can melt the sand around Peter's leg?" Kurt whispered.

"Yeah, I'm good at setting stuff on  _fire_ , remember?" Wanda said, holding up one hand. Red sparks danced from her fingertips, ready for action.

"Ok, here's my idea!" The indigo teen cleared his throat, trying to sound as confident as possible, although it was painfully obvious they were just making it up as they went. "You free Peter and get him into that alley over there. I'll free Raven and we'll teleport to meet you two, and then I'll take all four of us back to the safe house."

"How are we gonna do all that without  _him_  seeing us?" She frowned and nodded towards the blue villain. Kurt pursed his lips. The moment he and Wanda stepped out from behind their cover, they've be totally exposed and highly vulnerable. Kurt didn't want to think about the scary man turning his rage on Wanda or himself.

"Well, he's pretty focused on Raven right now, so at least we'll be safer if we start with Peter." While it was true En Sabah Nur currently paid no attention to the speedster (even though he was pounding  _loudly_  on the solid earth encasing his foot), there was no guarantee that he wouldn't turn around while they helping Peter. Kurt frowned and rubbed his neck. His moment of bravado was waning; now that they were closer to En Sabah Nur, every move seemed so risky and uncertain.

"What we really need is a good  _distraction_ ," Wanda said, drumming her fingers against the debris that hid them. "We need something that will draw his attention from Raven and Peter so we can get in and get them out."

Kurt closed his eyes, racking his brain to think of something -  _anything_  - they could do to create a distraction without risking themselves or their intentions. Raven and Peter's lives depended on them, now more than ever.

 _Come on St. Jude_ , he silently appealed to the patron saint of impossible causes,  _just give me a sign...!_

Just then the ground quaked beneath Kurt's feet and his eyes snapped open. What he saw made he and Wanda gasp.

It seemed that today, St. Jude was listening.

* * *

Raven was dying.

She could feel her body shutting down as En Sabah Nur's hand clenched ever harder, crushing the life out of her. She struggled desperately against his vice-grip fingers, but with each passing second without air, she grew weaker. The sapphire woman couldn't even control her own skin anymore; her scales rippled wildly, defensively making her body slippery or hard to grasp, but to no avail. The only comfort Raven had was that En Sabah Nur's murderous focus was on her instead of Peter. She hoped he'd be able to free himself and get away; at least then her death wouldn't be for nothing.

As darkness crept into her vision, Raven wondered if she'd see her life flash before her eyes. She assumed at any moment she'd see Charles standing in the kitchen that fateful night she catapulted into his life. She could almost picture their mismatched childhood bunk-beds, their teenage late night popcorn-fueled movies, or their college flat in London where Charles read his studies out loud as she snuggled against him, content and sure of her place in the world. Maybe she'd even see Azazel, who'd only been in her life for five years but had burned like a star in her heart for twenty-two. Surely Raven would see one of those men - the two people in her life she knew the longest and loved the fiercest - before she faded away.

Instead, Raven was surprised to see an infant Kurt in her arms for the three glorious days he was hers. She could see his big doe eyes, how he'd clench his tiny hands into fists when she traced her finger across his palms, and smell the clean, milky scent of his hair as he slept peacefully against her. She'd wanted to name him  _Ilya,_ after her favorite warrior knight from Russian folklore, but even then she knew she couldn't give him a name or she'd never be able to walk away. She was glad Margali named him Kurt. It was a good, strong name, and it suited him well.  _Azazel will take care of him_ , she consoled herself. They'd survive this, even if she didn't; she just wished she could have told Kurt  _once_  how much she loved him.

As En Sabah Nur increased his pressure, Raven tasted blood in her mouth. For the second time that day, she knew it would take nothing short of a  _miracle_  to save her.

And, once again, that miracle came in the form she least expected.

* * *

Two enormous I-beams rammed violently into the earth, making Kurt and Wanda bolt upright, mouths agape. Even En Sabah Nur took an uncertain step back. The broken metal formed a giant X just in front of their safe house, seeming to block the evil man's advance.

 _Huh_ , Kurt thought, quickly realizing the blue villain's attention was now laser focused on this new development.  _Well, that distraction works for me!_ He grabbed Wanda and the two appeared just behind Peter.

" _Go Dadneto!_ " The speedster yelled, pumping his fist in the air. He lay crumpled on the ground with his right leg bent unnaturally. In spite of this, Peter was somehow smiling as he gazed skyward. Kurt followed his line of sight to find a man wearing a cape and a helmet floating high in the air. Small bits of metal swirled around him. Kurt could only assume that this was the famous  _Magneto_ , and that Peter was delirious with pain if he could smile and cheer with such a badly broken leg.

Wanda released Kurt's hand and ran to Peter, clamping her hands quickly over his mouth. He turned immediately, his silver eyes registering surprise as he mumbled loudly against her gag. It sounded like he was trying to say "Wanda?" but had a mouth full of mashed potatoes instead.

" _Shhhh!_ " Wanda cautioned as she removed her hands. "Be  _quiet_  or you'll get us _killed!_ "

"Did you see what I did?" The speedster whispered. "I totally punched that  _asshat_  in his stupid bald head! High five!" Peter held up his hand for Kurt to slap, but Kurt only arched his eyebrow at him.

"Hold _still!_ " Wanda hissed quietly as she placed her hands on the hardened sand. Her fingers began to glow, and after a few seconds, cracks appeared in earth around Peter's foot.

"How long do you need?" Kurt whispered, scrutinizing her progress while keeping one watchful eye on En Sabah Nur. He was yelling something about  _betrayal_  at Magneto, but frankly, Kurt was too nervous to really listen to their exchange.

"A few minutes, tops," she responded. "I can't use my power at full blast or I might like,  _burn off_  Peter's foot."

"Yeah Sis,  _don't_  do that last part!" Peter added nervously as he watched her work. He then glanced at Raven, still in the clutches of En Sabah Nur. "What about Raven?"

"I'll get Raven; you just listen to Wanda, Ok? She knows the plan." Kurt took a deep breath and looked again at En Sabah Nur. So far the man had been too focused on Magneto to notice the two teens' arrival, but he also still held Raven in a death-grip. Kurt still had the element of surprise on his side, but he was starting to realize that even with Magneto as a distraction, he'd have to do something something pretty  _drastic_  to break En Sabah Nur's grip. Kurt ran his tongue over his fangs as he mulled over his options.

Then, the idea came to him almost like a cartoon light bulb above his head. Kurt braced for his teleport; he'd only have one shot to get it right.

* * *

**_CHARLES!_ **

In the darkness he stumbled, catching himself on some shadowy object ( _This is a thought of a chair? Or a memory of a desk?_ ) to pull himself up. He continued to move blindly forward, holding out his hands to navigate the twisting, mysterious corridors. He was trapped somewhere his own mind. He knew this simply because he could walk; Charles never lost the use of his legs in his private thoughts and memories.

**_SHOW YOURSELF!_ **

The demonic voice boomed again, rattling the very fabric of his thoughts. He winced, pinching the bridge of his nose. That voice was starting to give him a migraine. Part of Charles was vaguely aware of the others milling around his unconscious body outside of this shadow world. He'd fought against the darkness long enough to cry out for Jean, to reach for her face in the real world before slipping back into the depths of his thoughts. He was looking for Jean again, for the flash of golden flame that was her voice leading him back from the brink. He had to get out before he lost himself on this astral plane for good.

_What's this?_

Charles suddenly saw spots of light like breadcrumbs at his feet, leading down a tunnel. He followed the trail, not exactly sure where he was going, just hoping it lead to Jean or some other avenue he could remember. Eventually, his foggy surroundings started to brighten, and he broke into a run when he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. A light that led straight to...

_... Raven?!_

Charles could suddenly see his sister just an arm's length away, fighting to breathe as she clawed at his fingers around her throat. She was staring into his eyes with a sorrowful, pleading look; a look that asked for  _mercy_.

Mercy because Charles was  _killing_  her.

_NO!_

He shook his head. He'd  _never_  hurt Raven! Those couldn't be  _his_  fingers, or  _his_  hand, or  _his_  arm, or...

_But how is it that I'm standing so close to Raven, and looking at her with my own eyes?_

Suddenly, he felt something collide with his back and he stumbled forward, nearly losing his balance. He turned and swatted at his shoulders, but there was nothing behind him. He then felt a sting on his forearm and cried out from the pain. When he took his hand away, there was no blood or markings on him. His arm was  _fine_. He looked out again, and this time Raven was sprawled on the ground, gasping for air while Kurt faced him, baring his teeth in a snarl as he perched on Charles's arm.

Charles's...  _blue arm_?

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks: Charles wasn't inside his  _own_  mind; he was inside _En Sabah Nur's_  mind! And, if he was connected to En Sabah Nur, then he had a real chance to defeat the man once and for all.

 _Thank you for letting me in_ , Charles thought, a wicked smile blooming on his face as he spun on his heels and ran back the way he came. He needed to get into his own mind, to find Jean and the others if his plan was going to succeed.

* * *

Azazel's heart skipped a solid  _three beats_  when he saw Kurt not only  _outside_ , but clinging to En Sabah Nur like some poorly trained rodeo rider. Azazel grimaced as he unsheathed his short short. Then, just when things couldn't get more _fucked-up..._

" _Whoa!_  Did Kurt just  _bite_  that guy?!" Scott gasped, watching the battle from the window.

"Yep, right on the arm." Dr. McCoy added. Outside, the blue villain howled in pain. Azazel put a hand over his face. Kurt  _bit_  him; he straight-up  _bit_  the man, just like Raven had bit Azazel a week prior. The apples in their family really didn't fall far from the tree. But, the boy's guttural action did the trick: the second Kurt's fangs pierced his skin, En Sabah Nur released Raven. Her slack body now lay crumpled on ground and the man transferred his rage to Kurt, now trying to grab the teen by his neck.

The only thing that really mattered now was that Azazel  _had_  to get his family away from that madman. Just as he was about to vanish, Moira seized his arm.

" _Moira!_ " He snarled and yanked his arm away, but she held firm, jerking forward and almost colliding with him. He then pointed his blade at her in a threatening manner. "If you do  _nyet_  take your hand off me  _right now_ , I will  _break it off!_ " He hissed through clenched teeth as he roughly shoved her. She took a few teetering steps backwards, almost tripping over Charles.

"If I do  _nyet_  go out there, they will die!"

"If we don't get Charles to safety, then we  _all_ die!" Moira pleaded.

" _CHARLES!_ " En Sabah Nur's poisonous voice bellowed again.

" _NO!_ "

All eyes alighted to Charles. With some surge of strength, he'd opened his eyes and was struggling to sit. "It's me... he wants  _me_ , not  _them_..."

"Professor  _no!_ " Jean begged, tears flowing freely down her face. "You  _can't_  give yourself up! If he has you, then he has us  _all_. The  _whole_  world!"

"He's  _here_ ," Charles said, looking at Jean knowingly as he tapped the side of his head. "He's right here... there is still some part of me  _connected_  to him."

" _Connected?_ " The young telepath asked, biting her lip. "Does that mean...?" Unbelievably, Charles smiled.

"It means I can get inside  _his_  head, and I can lure him into  _mine_." He turned toward the the remaining team. "Jean and Moira, stay with me; I may need your help. The rest of you... cause a  _distraction_ , a  _big_  one,  _anything_  you can. Buy me time!"

"I am going out there," Azazel stated defiantly. He was done arguing.

"I'm going with you." Dr. McCoy took Azazel's arm. The strength in his grip left no room for argument. The blue mutant nodded out the window. "You get Kurt; I'll grab Raven."

"Wanda and Peter?" The red man asked, raising an eyebrow. Scott pointed to where Peter had been a moment before.

"She got Peter free. I saw them hobble into that alley over there." Scott then linked arms with Dr. McCoy. "I'll protect them until Dr. McCoy arrives with Raven, then Azazel can come get us all on the return jump." Scott turned and gave Charles a thumb's up.

"We got your back, Professor! Now you go get that blue  _son-of-a_..."

"Scott,  _language!_ " Charles shook his head. He then nodded at Azazel, and the trio melted into smoke and fire.

* * *

_Holding on to someone's back is_ way harder _than it looks!_  The panicked thought surfaced as Kurt scrambled for purchase on a trashing En Sabah Nur. Luckily, the teen's flexibility and acrobatics allowed him to evade capture, but truthfully, he was  _more lucky_  that Magneto was currently throwing metal debris at the giant blue man, even if so far he'd easily deflected everything. It was still causing a break in his murderous concentration on seizing Kurt. What Kurt was really trying to do was simply  _get off_. Every time he tried to jump or drop to the ground, the blue man caught him by his arm or leg and pulled him back. If Kurt could time it right - if he could just escape long enough grab to Raven - then he could teleport her to the alley, grab Wanda and Peter, and get everyone the  _heck_  out of there.

He really hoped Raven was alright. She hadn't moved once since she slipped from En Sabah Nur's clutches. Then, Kurt saw an opportunity to escape. He pushed forward with all his strength towards his mother, but he suddenly stopped in mid-air. The indigo teen felt and incredible pressure clamping down on his left ankle. He landed awkwardly on all fours, his hands and free leg breaking his fall. Before he could turn around, he was whipped through the air and into the side of an overturned car, knocking the breath from his lungs as he fell face-first onto the ground. Before he could even  _think_  about teleporting, En Sabah Nur was on him, wrapping both hands murderously around Kurt's neck and lifting him high into the air. The man then activated some kind of purple shield around the two, preventing Magneto from reaching him. The teen desperately tugged at En Sabah Nur's hands, trying to break his grip. This time the blue villain wasn't going to choke him; the pressure alone let Kurt know the man was trying to break his neck.

" _CHARLES!_ " He bellowed, squeezing harder. Kurt saw stars dancing across his field of vision. " _COME SAVE YOUR WEAKLING! WILL YOU DO NOTHING?!_ "

Kurt had to think of something, and fast.

* * *

Sparks rang out as Azazel's short sword clashed against Pyslocke's - this time, the  _real_  Psylocke's - katana. Azazel, Dr. McCoy and Scott appeared just seconds ago, but unfortunately, they did so right in the path of En Sabah Nur's last loyal horseman, rejoining the fight to defend her master. Magneto seemed to have turned to their side, and neither the angel nor the weather witch were anywhere to be seen. This henchwoman was the last real obstacle in their way. The moment the trio appeared, she unsheathed her blade and charged.

" _Get the others!_ " Azazel commanded, drawing his last two blades and turning to face her. Dr. McCoy and Scott gave no argument and ran to the aid of their teammates. Injured or not, Azazel was still an exceptional sword fighter, and he alone stood the best chance against Psylocke.

Besides, he was more than ready to take out all the day's frustration and anger on this purple haired  _bitch_.

 _She's good, I'll give her that much_ , the red mutant conceded after a few minutes of fighting. He'd worked up quite a sweat and was breathing hard. She'd scored a few hits too, but nothing deep enough to cause any real concern. Her fighting style was very different from his and Clarice's, making it harder to predict her footwork and strikes. The fact that she could also create a  _psionic weapon_  didn't exactly help, and he struggled to dodge the purple whip or sword she alternated between.

But, good as she was, everyone had a weakness, and Azazel finally spotted Pyslocke's: when switching between her psionic weapons, she'd always turn slightly to her left, forcing her real blade to come at him from the right. When he was sure this was a fatal pattern and not a trick, he advanced without hesitation. He slammed his blade against hers in a downward swing, trapping her hand from bringing the katana up. He released his other dagger and seized her wrist, twisting hard to dislocate her arm. She cried out and tried to pull away, but Azazel had her trapped. The only way she'd could use her psionic powers now was to drop her katana. Just as she released her weapon and her hand started to glow, Azazel swept her legs with his tail, knocking her off her feet.

Azazel fell on Psylocke, pinning her to the ground before she could recover. He would never admit it out loud, but part of him relished her expression of fear as he stared down from his dominant position, his tail's spade now poised just over her left eye. Just as he pulled it back to drive home the killing blow - her terrified eyes distracted by watching it - he seized the neckline of her suit and jerked her towards him. In once swift movement he smashed her face hard into the crown of his head. When he let go, Psylocke slumped to the ground, knocked out cold.

Azazel caught his breath and sat up. His side ached something fierce and he felt dizzy. He hoped it wouldn't affect his reflexes or ability to jump the team to somewhere far away. He looked down again at his purple haired foe. It would have been so easy to kill her, and he wasn't sure exactly what stayed his tail.

Maybe these  _damn_  X-Men were starting to rub off on him after all.

* * *

_Wanda, nein!_ Kurt wanted to scream when he saw the redhead standing just behind En Sabah Nur. She raised her hands and conjured a bright energy beam that lit-up the man's shield, disabling it quickly. Unfortunately, he didn't release Kurt. Instead, En Sabah Nur turned and used one hand to deflected Wanda's second attack right into the car's fender Magneto instantaneously threw at him. She screamed as the fender hit her in her stomach, sending her flying into a concrete wall.

" _FOOLISH CHILDREN!_ " The blue villain seethed as Wanda crumpled to the ground. Kurt narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flaring in rage. En Sabah Nur may have counted on defeating them since they were young, but there was something En Sabah Nur hadn't counted on: fighting someone with a  _tail_.

Using a trick Azazel taught him, Kurt maneuvered his tail's space to grab his dagger. Without hesitation, he plunged the blade deep into En Sabah Nur's back. The blue villain roared and instinctively dropped Kurt. Before his feet even touched the ground, he teleported to Wanda, putting himself between her and En Sabah Nur. She looked up in a daze from the ground, and blood trickled down the side of her face. As Kurt took her hand, her eyes suddenly flooded with fear. She pointed and screamed.

" _Look out!_ " Kurt turned just as En Sabah Nur pulled the dagger from his back and with all his strength, threw it at the teens.

* * *

The red mutant saw Kurt and Wanda just as En Sabah Nur threw the dagger. Azazel swore under his breath and vanished. He appeared just behind the teens and seized them both, disappearing instantly.

" _What were you thinking?!_ " He reprimanded harshly as soon as the trio reappeared inside the safe house. Jean and Moira looked over quickly from the floor next to Charles. Both Kurt Wanda swayed on their feet, shaking from fear and sheer exhaustion. Kurt stood slightly hunched forward and blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear his vision.

"That was _close call. Too close!_ " The red mutant hissed, running his hand through his hair as if trying to calm himself. He could hear the anger in his voice and he was probably frightening the kids further, but right then, he really didn't care. The two teens had no business going outside,  _alone_  and  _without_  a plan, attempting to fight a mutant that powerful. The impetuousness of their youth gave them feelings of invincibility, but they were  _damn lucky_  En Sabah Nur hadn't killed them outright.

"What were you  _thinking_ , going out there,  _fighting_  with that man?" Azazel turned to Kurt, jabbing a finger at him to drive home his point. "He could have  _killed_  you!"

He stared hard at Kurt but the boy remained silent, making Azazel frown. It was unlike Kurt to give him  _attitude_. Surely the boy must realize the grave mistake he and Wanda just made and how they put the entire team in jeopardy?

" _Mal'chik?"_  Azazel threw his hands up in frustration. "Have you really  _nothing_  to say for yourself?"

Kurt finally opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he coughed violently before taking one long, strained breath. When he looked up at Azazel, a vicious dark liquid was dripping down to his chin.

 _That looks like_... the red mutant tilted his head _... blood?_

" _Oh my God._ " Wanda whispered, her quivering hands darting to her mouth.

Azazel's gaze traveled down to Kurt's hands, which were clamped tightly over his stomach. A dark stain was slowly spreading across the mid-section of his Kevlar suit.

It  _was_  blood.

As a matter of fact, it was...  _Kurt's blood.  
_

It was only then Azazel realized that En Sabah Nur's throw had hit home just before they disappeared. Azazel's dagger - the very same one he'd gifted Kurt earlier - was now buried up to its hilt in Kurt's stomach.

With shock waning, Kurt seemed to realize the gravity of the situation. The boy's entire body started trembling, and he looked at Azazel with abject panic in his golden eyes. Kurt then fearfully whimpered the one word Azazel would have given  _anything_  to hear under any other circumstance but this:

"...  _Dad...?_ "


	45. Gone

Fact: blood comprises roughly 7% of the human body's total weight. An adult has roughly 4.7-5.5 liters (or, 1.2- 1.5 gallons) of blood coursing through their veins. The human body is also quite resilient; one can lose up to  _30% of total blood volume_  before requiring a transfusion or other drastic measures to stay alive.

Kurt got that last question wrong on his biology midterm. Now, it almost felt like  _cruel irony_  that far too much of the precious liquid was seeping out of his body, and there was little he could do to stop it.

_5%?_

The moment Kurt realized the dagger was lodged in his stomach, everything started happening so fast. The indigo teen was only vaguely aware of the flurry of action springing into motion around him. The entire room suddenly seemed far too bright and too blurry and too loud all at once. He was surprised that he really didn't feel much pain; if anything, he just felt really,  _really_   _cold_ , and in spite of the swift movement around him, everything also seemed to take way too long, like time was winding down instead of speeding up. Kurt wondered briefly if this time flow dichotomy was what Peter felt like when he moved at normal-people speed. He realized that at some point, he must have collapsed because someone caught him and helped him to the ground. Right now, Kurt only really knew two things: one, he was laying in Azazel's arms with his head resting against the man's chest; and two, he was very, very  _afraid_.

_10%?_

He shielded his face from the brightness; the colors and movement hurt his eyes. Judging the rumble he felt in Azazel's chest, the man yelled for something -  _towels? cloth?_  - and soon Kurt felt fabric being bundled around his midsection and pressed into his lower back. The teen saw Ms. Agent MacTaggert kneeling next to him and holding something against his stomach where the dagger hilt protruded. The thing that frightened him the most was the look on her face; when she caught his eye she tried to smile reassuringly, but she couldn't hide the distress in her eyes, nor the smears of blood from accidentally touching her face. At one point, Kurt looked down and wasn't sure if he was looking at  _her_  hands or  _Azazel's_  holding the fabric against his stomach; all the hands he saw were so dark red.

Dark with  _blood_.

_15%?_

Kurt started shivering and he looked at Azazel.  _No, not at Azazel, at my Dad_ , he reminded himself. He'd finally called Azazel  _Dad_ , but it had been a reflexive slip of the tongue. The instant Kurt saw the dagger, he was suddenly so scared. In that moment, more than anything else, he craved the comfort that only a  _parent_  could give. He needed the "hug-me, make-it-all-better" love that Mama Margali give him whenever he scraped his knees or injured himself, even if he knew this injury was beyond fixing with a bandage or a kiss. He needed Azazel to be his  _Dad_ , no matter what the circumstances were that led to his parents not raising Kurt as their son.

_20%?_

Time continued to grind slower, and Kurt's eyelids felt heavy. He was  _exhausted_ , and all he wanted was close his eyes and go to sleep. He wondered how much blood he'd actually lost at this point, and if this is what it felt like to die. Kurt blinked hard, fighting to remain conscious.

If he was going to die, there were things he had to say first.

* * *

Raven closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the alley wall. She put one hand on her throat and gently rubbed where En Sabah Nur's fingers had been moments before. Her skin was raw and bleeding in several places. She wondered if the wounds would leave small scars.

" _Hey,_ " Peter said softly, laying his hand on her arm. She blinked and turned to face at him. Clumps of hair stuck to the sweat on his forehead, making the normal bright silver strands appear much darker, almost like gunmetal. He was very pale, and his broken leg was were splayed out awkwardly as he sat next to her. "You _alright?_ "

Raven nodded, but in fact, she  _wasn't_  alright. She wasn't even exactly sure how she came to be in this alley next to Peter and no longer in En Sabah Nur's clutches. She wasn't even sure how  _Peter_  got here himself. She remembered hitting the ground hard and Hank whispering  _'I got you'_  before spiriting her away, but she wasn't sure what Hank was doing outside, or near En Sabah Nur for that matter. Raven had no idea how she'd broken free from the evil man. Part of her swore she saw  _Kurt_  biting En Sabah Nur's arm, but that couldn't be possible. She must have imagined seeing him from her flashbacks just as she blacked out.

Raven coughed and then took a strained breath. From where the two mutants sat hidden, she could see a sliver of action in the clearing. By now, En Sabah Nur was under full attack: Scott from the left, discharging his laser vision; Hank from the right, roaring and throwing debris with deadly force; above, a mysterious young African woman, raining down lightening bolts from the sky; and across from her Erik, also in the sky and twisting metal into mayhem. It was an impressive visual fight, but so far, En Sabah Nur was holding his own. He didn't appear particularly weakened by the joint attack. Raven hoped the tides would change quickly.

She bit her lip, looking up at Erik. She vaguely remembered the blue villain accusing him of betraying his God; Erik had responded simply that he'd betrayed  _them_. She could only imagine how Peter read into that, judging by his excitement as he cheered on the battle. Raven didn't have the heart to tell him that it would still take a long time for Erik to come around and be the person Peter so desperately wished for. Even if he accepted that Peter was his long-lost son, it didn't guarantee that Erik would want anything to do with him; or, that Erik would even stick around long enough to find out.

 _That is, if any of us even survive this_ , Raven thought glumly. As if reading her mind, Peter slung his arm around her and rubbed her shoulder in his good-natured matter.

"It's gonna be  _Ok_ ," the speedster proclaimed, giving her a lopsided smile. Raven nodded again and laid her head on his shoulder. She wished she could simply close her eyes and believe him.

* * *

"You  _want_  what I  _have?!"_ Charles screamed into the darkness, baited his foe. "You want to  _feel_  what I  _feel?!_ " His nostrils flared as he watched the encroaching shadows for any movement. He couldn't afford to be taken by surprise.

Seconds after Azazel, Hank, and Scott vanished, the telepath closed his eyes and slipped back into the recesses of his mind, leaving Jean and Moira to watch protectively over him. He knew En Sabah Nur was somewhere nearby, and that he would hear Charles's provocation vibrating across their astral connection. Charles had to tempt the man into entering  _his_  mind for the plan to succeed. En Sabah Nur was far to powerful to be defeated by one person alone; the telepath knew now that the key to destroying him was to engage the blue man on the astral plane while his teammates battled him in the physical world. Only if the villain's attention was divided between the two realities did the X-Men have a chance at wearing him down and scoring a killing blow.

Just on the edge of the darkness, a shadowy figure emerged. Charles balled his hands into fists and stared in challenge as En Sabah Nur revealed himself. The blue man stood several feet away, sneering wickedly, as if this confrontation was barely worth his time or attention. The man parted his lips but before he could utter even a  _breath_ , Charles exploded across the expanse separating them and landed a staggering punch right into the villain's jaw. En Sabah Nur reeled back, nearly losing his footing. One hand shot to his face, rubbing where Charles assaulted him. When he pulled his hand away, there was blood on his fingers. He looked at Charles in shock, clearly  _not_  expecting the man to weld such impressive power.

"Welcome to  _my world!_ " Charles hissed through his teeth. Suddenly, walls and floors and furniture from the Xavier mansion solidified all around the two mutants. End Sabah Nur's eyes darted around in surprise as the trap sprung. The telepath now stood in the heart of his school - the heart of his  _home_  - his fists at the ready and determination etched onto his face. "You're in  _my house_  now!"

Charles steeled himself as he leaped forward, unleashing  _everything_  he could muster. It was now, or it was  _never_.

* * *

" _Shit on a shingle!_ " Peter's sudden outburst startled Raven. The blue woman opened her eyes and glanced around quickly. The battle against En Sabah Nur was still raging strong, but it was clear the tides had turned. The blue villain seemed to gain a sudden burst of power and increased his onslaught against the four rebels. The man growled and deflected one of Magneto's metal weapons into a charging Hank. Raven gasped as the leonine mutant was throw hard into a building and sunk to the ground, seemingly unconscious. Scott's laser vision flickered as he dove for cover, just barely missing a lightening strike En Sabah Nur redirected towards him. With a flick of his wrists, the blue man sent stone debris skyward, careening towards Erik and the African girl and making both scramble wildly to avoid impact.

Then, sand seemed to kicked up from everywhere all at once, practically blotting out the sun. Raven and Peter coughed violently and covered their faces as the tiny particles whipped down the alley, stinging their eyes and exposed skin. In the midst of the unholy storm, Raven could just barely make out En Sabah Nur. His hands were aloft as he directed the terrifying display. The wind howled madly, now forcing Erik and the weather mutant to land. She watched Scott make a mad dash for shelter only to be trapped by En Sabah Nur, partially entombed in a stone wall with this glasses on and no way for him to remove them.

 _They can't stop him_ , Raven realized with rising dread. Peter screamed as the safe house's exterior wall started to crumble under the sand's pressure, slowly exposing the vulnerable insides. She couldn't see any of her teammates - they'd be far enough back in the room - but the fact that En Sabah Nur was triumphantly focusing on the house was confirmation enough that Charles must still be inside.  _And if he's still here_ , Raven felt fear flood her body,  _that means Kurt and Azazel are still here too._

Raven looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers and knowing that her powers were useless against the blue man. Peter turned to her, his lower lip trembling and his broken leg an anchor as useless as her scales. She took his hand and squeezed it hard as silent tears spilled down his cheeks. Their families were in peril, and all they could do was sit on the sidelines and watch.

* * *

The first punch took Charles by complete surprise. He'd been  _winning_  - he was  _sure_  of it - and driving the man into submission with a series of brutal blows. It was shocking when the telepath felt the startling pain in his skull and flew backwards, landing on the floor with a sickening thump. His head reeled, and blood flowed freely from his nose. Dazed, Charles sat up and saw En Sabah Nur laughing manically. Then, somehow the villain began to  _expand_ ; he swelled into a  _behemoth_  of a man, his voice deepening as he continued to bellow.

"You'll need a  _bigger house!_ " He sneered, balling his hand into a fist. Frightened, Charles scrambled backwards but it wasn't fast enough. The second blow rocked his body to the core, sending him flying into a wall. He landed on his hands and knees, gasping for air. The blue giant pushed forward with his attack. Charles felt the warm splash of blood burst from his mouth; he was sure he'd lost teeth on the last hit, even if it was a battle on the astral plane.

 _How can he be this powerful in_ my  _own mind?_  Charles panicked at the thought. If the blue man could defeat Charles in his own mind, then there would be no stopping him in the real world. En Sabah Nur's giant hand darted forward, pinning Charles's body to the ground.

" _I see you._ " En Sabah Nur purred just inches from his face.

" _NO!_ " Charles cried out as he struggled. He knew right then that his physical body had been discovered. Charles had risked exposing his hiding place by calling to the blue villain through their mental connection. He'd been counting on keeping En Sabah Nur too distracted with fighting to allow him to use the connection to hone in on Charles's location.

"They lack  _strength_  Charles," the blue man said as his eyes faded into milky white. Suddenly, Charles could see again from En Sabah Nur's point of view. He watched his X-Men fight a losing battle: Scott, trapped inside a wall and unable to remove his glasses; Hank, unconscious on the ground. Erik and an unknown African women fighting against a wild sandstorm. The wall to the safe house slowly crumbling under his the pressure of En Sabah Nur's power. It was just a matter of seconds before the entire wall could collapse and fully expose the last of them.

"All is  _lost!_ " The blue man increased his hand's pressure as he leaned forward, crushing Charles against the floor. He felt as if his very bones were on the verve of  _breaking_. He didn't want to die  _alone_ , trapped in the recesses of his own mind, and...

 _Alone?_ Charles looked up at En Sabah Nur and bared his teeth.  _That's it!_

"You will  _never_  win!" The telepath spit back.

"And why's that?" He asked, the tone of his voice almost  _amused_.

"Because you are  _alone_ ," Charles stated definitely, "and I am  _not!_ " En Sabah Nur smiled and shook his head, but before he could deliver a killing blow, Charles heard sound of a door opening. The blue man turned to look behind him and quickly shielded his eyes. Charles smiled as the shadows in the room dissolved, burned away by a light as rich and radiant as a sunset.

Jean stood in the doorway, bold and beautiful and burning like a golden flame.

* * *

There was  _so much_  blood.

Azazel wrapped another towel around the dagger's hilt, pressing gently to staunch the bleeding. The fabric warmed and wetting almost instantly against his trembling fingers.

The wound was  _bad_ ; there was no fooling himself about it. When Kurt collapsed, Azazel fell to the floor with him, pulling the boy into his arms. He yelled for towels, clothing, for  _anything_ to stop the bleeding. Wanda stood immobilized by shock but Moira snapped to action, rushing over with torn drapes and towels as fast as she could grab them. As the red man held Kurt in his lap, he tried not to think about how he could  _feel_ the other side of the sword just under the boy's Kevlar suit, or the blood drenching his own abdomen from where Kurt rested against him. Even if by some sheer  _miracle_  the blade skirted all major organs (Azazel's training reflexes listed a mental inventory of fatal strikes: pancreas, kidneys, stomach, intestines, aorta artery, spine), he was still bleeding faster than they could stop it.

Kurt looked up from where his head rested against Azazel's chest. His normally dark skin already looked ashen and pale. Gazing down into son's eyes, Azazel suddenly felt so incredible  _helpless_. Kurt was bleeding to death in his arms, and there was little he could do. He couldn't preform a blood transfusion; he didn't know Kurt's blood type, not to mention they didn't have the equipment. Even if Azazel had the strength to jump Kurt back to the West, he didn't know where doctors or hospitals were located to take Kurt. He couldn't take the boy into the Eastern Bloc either; the east was not mutant-friendly, and Azazel couldn't think of one doctor who treated mutants outright. The few KGB doctors he knew of worked  _undercover_ ; they to be called to the scene where the injured mutant was. He had no idea how to actually find them, and they certainly didn't have time to call one and wait. He thought briefly of looking for Dr. McCoy, but he was terrified to leave Kurt, and he doubted that he had any more resources available than Azazel did. Things were starting to look dire at best.

"I'm  _dying_ , aren't I?" Kurt asked softly. His eyes were half closed and his lips were parted slightly.

"You will be  _Ok!_ " The red mutant responded fiercely. He pulled his hand away from the blood soaked towels. He brushed Kurt's hair from his face, accidentally streaking blood across the boy's forehead. Moira leaned over and applied another towel to Kurt's midsection. The indigo teen reached up weakly, and Azazel grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly.

"I'm not afraid to die," he whispered, swallowing thickly. "I know there's a life after this one, and it's a  _good life_. I'm not afraid."

"Kurt, you will  _nyet_   _die!_  You will be  _Ok!_ " Kurt's face then became blurry for a second, but Azazel only realized he'd started crying when he felt the first tears spill down his cheek.

"I'm glad I got... to know you," Kurt breathed heavily before smiling. His fangs were stained pink. "...  _Dad_."

Time came to a stand still. Azazel was vaguely aware of Moira treating Kurt's wound, of Wanda starting to cry, of Jean calling out to Charles, of the hideout's far wall beginning to crumble, but in that one moment, the only thing that mattered was that his son - his perfect, beautiful  _son_  - just called him  _Dad_  once again. It hadn't been an accident the first time; somehow, Kurt knew exactly who Azazel was.

"I am  _so proud_  of you," the red man said, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Of  _everything_  you are. So  _proud_ , Kurt." The boy moved his hand to Azazel's face, touching his cheek gently as if trying to brush away his tears.  _Even so badly injured, he's thinking about taking care of me._  The thought made Azazel cry harder.

"I forgive you, for letting me go. Tell Mom that I forgive her too, for giving me up when I was a baby." The teen paused, seeming to fight hard for a few breaths to focus his thoughts. "And, tell her I love her for coming back... for saving me when I needed her the most."

" _Stop!_ Do  _nyet_  say goodbyes!"

"Tell Auntie Clarice and Uncle Charles that I love them, and..."

"You will tell them  _yourself_  when we are home!" Azazel interrupted. This time his voice did break. He really didn't know if Kurt would ever see home again; he couldn't bear the thought.

"... I love you, Dad." Kurt then closed his eyes and rested against Azazel's chest again. The red mutant was at a lost for what to do; part of him knew Kurt was dying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The only thing he could think to do was wrap his arms tighter around his son, cradling him like a child. He put his cheek against Kurt's forehead and closed his eyes. Azazel thought back to his own mother comforting him one last time before he was ripped from her arms; that very last hug - her last affirmation of love - had carried him through the darkest moments of his life. It was the only thing he had left to give his own son.

After a moment, Kurt's breathing slowed, and Azazel felt the life leaving him. He started to panic.

"Nyet _, stay with me!_ " He yelled, shaking Kurt. The boy's head lulled to one side and he didn't respond. Moving quickly, Azazel laid him on the ground and started preforming chest compressions. He pinched Kurt's nose and breathed into the boy's mouth, filling his lungs with air.  _Nothing_. He did more compressions and breathing. He kept working until felt a hand on his shoulder, gently pulling him back.

"Azazel,  _stop_." Moira knelt beside him, a sorrowful look on her face and a bloody towel in her lap. He looked down at Kurt. The boy was no longer breathing. Azazel then sat back, putting his hands over his face. There was still so much left unsaid, so much that he needed to tell Kurt: that he was  _wanted_ , that if things had been different, they would have kept him, that he had his mother's dimples, that he had his father's smile, and that even though they weren't technically related, Kurt had his uncle's kindness and his aunt's loyal heart.

But most importantly, Azazel needed to tell Kurt that he  _loved_  him since the very second he realized Kurt was his.

"I can  _nyet_  lose him!" He sobbed.

"You  _can't_  save him." Moira said softly, putting her arms around him.

" _You_  can't but... maybe  _I_  can."

Wanda's voice was scarcely above a whisper, but in that moment, it might has well have been a scream. Azazel and Moira looked up. Wanda stood over Kurt, her hands burning brightly and ribbons of red light swirling around her. She dropped to the floor and put one hand around the dagger hilt and her other on Kurt's forehead. She looked directly at Azazel across Kurt's body. Her pale eyes burned fiercely, like starlight.

"I won't be able to control it when it happens," she warned. Both Azazel and Moira took heed and quickly moved back.

Facing Kurt again, Wanda took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Suddenly, her entire body jerked violently and her head snapped skyward. She gnashed her teeth as the scarlet aura around her stretched and grew brighter, enveloping both her and Kurt like a cocoon. Azazel had to shield his eyes as the glow grew exponentially. To his left, he saw Jean stand and turn to face the now missing wall. She calmly walked towards the last battle just as Wanda's energy reached a fever pitch, and then...

...

...

...

* * *

...

...

...

In the darkness, Kurt opened his eyes.


	46. Wake Up

" _Whoa!_ " Peter shouted, pointing into the clearing. "Is  _that_...? That  _can't_  be... _?!_ "

"It's...  _Jean?_ " Raven answered, her voice wavering with incredulity. Both mutants gazed into the sandstorm sky.  _Impossibly_ , Jean had appeared to join the battle against En Sabah Nur; even  _more_  impossibly, she was  _walking_  on the air directly from the safe house's second story. Raven had to rub her eyes and look again to believe it. She had  _no idea_  Jean's mutation allowed her to do that; honestly, Raven wasn't even sure  _Jean_  knew she had this ability until that very moment. It suddenly reminded her of Cuba, where Erik first learned he could manipulate the Earth's magnetic fields enough to float.

"Dude, she can  _fly?!_ Did  _you_  know that?!" The speedster turned to Raven and blatantly looked her up and down. "Please tell me  _you_  can fly? Or  _heal_  people? 'Cause either would be pretty  _rad_  right now!" Raven ignored him, focusing instead on the young telepath. Flames began to curl around her feet with each step she took, paving a road of fire stretching out before her. Jean paused just a few meters away from the house and stared down at En Sabah Nur. The blue villain returned her gaze but his expression was oddly one of reverent _awe_. It was as if he recognized something in Jean, some raw power or magic that he hadn't expected to find in their mismatched, rag-tag group.

The fire around Jean's feet flickered before burning bright gold. The girl raised her hands slowly in front of her, palms to the sky. Her auburn hair swirled elegantly around her face, and her eyes shone with fierce determination. Suddenly, like gasoline thrown on a bonfire, Jean's flames began to rage, enveloping her body in a brilliant, scorching inferno. Both Raven and Peter had to shield their eyes from the power and heat of her display. When the flames peeled back, Jean stood in their center, looking as beautiful and terrifying as a saint in a halo. Her once cerulean eyes smoldered like coals, burning the same bright gold as the fire surrounding her. En Sabah Nur retreated several hasty steps back, and Raven suddenly saw something she hadn't expected flash across the man's face.

 _He's afraid_ , she realized, her own eyes widening in surprise. En Sabah Nur was truly frightened by Jean's powers. He raised his arms to conjured a protective shield just as her fire took the shape of a giant bird behind her.

Jean threw her arms open as the fiery raptor spread its wings. She screamed, and reigned fire down from the heavens like a God _._

* * *

Kurt gasped as he sat up, his hands instinctively clamping down on his wounded stomach. His heart and breath raced, but as he groped his abdomen, he couldn't feel the dagger's hilt. As a matter of fact, he couldn't feel  _anything_  inherently wrong: no dagger, no blood, no puncture wound in his skin or flight suit...  _nothing_. Confused, he looked around and blinked hard, but all he saw was darkness. Nothing stirred in the midnight shadows swirling around him.

After a few seconds ( _Or moments? Or hours? It was difficult to get a sense of time, wherever he was_ ), Kurt's heartbeat slowed to a reasonable pace and the darkness around him receded slightly. He could now see just enough to know he was alone in some dimly lit room. He sat perched on the edge of what sorta felt like a bed, although he couldn't quite see it. As his eyes adjusted more to the darkness, he vaguely made out structures that looked like a window in front of him and two doors flanking him, but the room's boundaries were hazy and undefined.

 _Where the heck am I?_  He puzzled, rubbing his eyes. He certainly didn't recognize the foreign room; the strange layout of the one window and opposing doors wasn't like any other room he'd seen before. He waited for his surrounding to brighten or for the structures to become clearer, but everything remained dim. Deep shadows pooled just out of reach and almost seemed to roll over each other, like oil mixing with water. They were certainly the strangest shadows the indigo teen had ever seen. Curious, he reached forward, straining to touch them.

At the brush of his fingertips, the shadows snapped away, twisting in such a way as to form defined walls boxing him into the little room. Kurt recoiled at their jarring, unexpected movement.  _Something really weird is going on here_. The shadows seemed sentient, and behaved almost like they were  _alive_. He watched the darkness then coil vaguely into recognizable objects: a lamp, a desk, a chair, and...

Then, as if someone flipped on a light switch, Kurt suddenly found himself sitting on his dorm room bed at the Xavier School. He ran his fingers across the familiar wool blanket, recognized the overdue library books on his nightstand, noted the pile of laundry on the floor next the hamper, and saw the tacked-up  _Pink Floyd_  poster Peter recently bequeathed him. Looking down, Kurt saw he was even wearing his favorite t-shirt and jeans. Everything was exactly like he last remembered it, just before...

 _... The school exploded._ Kurt frowned; he remembered seeing the burning wreckage, and feeling distress at knowing the beloved institution was gone. There was _no way_  he could be sitting in his dorm room since it didn't exist any more. Kurt reached for the books on his nightstand, but as soon as he touched them, the entire room  _shifted_ again (for lack of a better word). Spooked, Kurt fell back onto the bed. In his haste, his tail swept  _through_  the nightstand, and a bit of it trailed his spade like a wisp of mist. This time when he looked around, he was no longer in the Xavier School dorms; the jewel-tone canopy silks and classic movie posters and brightly painted wooden walls told him he was sitting in the  _caravan_  he'd shared with his step-brother in Munich. The only things that remained the same were the window and the two doors, both of which had been been part of the dorm room (although, Kurt didn't remember the layout exiting like that in real life).

The teen stood (slowly this time, less he make the room shift again). He walked to the window, careful not to touch anything. The items around him rippled slightly as he moved past, betraying that they were illusions instead of his actual possessions. Kurt peered out the window. He let out a surprised gasp as he immediately recognized the Cairo cityscape: he could see the clearing with En Sabah Nur, and just above the blue man, Jean walked on fire in the air.  _Huh,_ Kurt thought, tilting his head _, I didn't know she could do that!_  At the same time as he could see Jean and the outside, he could also somehow see  _inside_  the safe house. He recognized Uncle Professor unconscious on the floor and Ms. Agent MacTaggert with her arms around Azazel, who was crying. Both were covered in blood. A few feet away, Wanda was kneeling with her hands on...

...  _Wait, is that_ me _?!_ Kurt's eyes went wide as he recognized  _himself_ , or his  _former_  self. Judging by the amount of blood everywhere, Kurt wasn't sure how he was still alive. _Or if I am still alive?_

Shaken, he stepped away and quickly sat back down on the bed. The room shifted again to become Azazel's apartment in Latvia, the one he woke-up in after Berlin. Now he was seated on a couch instead of a bed. Kurt felt on the verge of hyperventilating. He held up one hand an flexed his fingers, focusing on the indigo of his skin. None of this made  _any_  sense: there was  _no way_  he could be in Westchester but also in Munich and Latvia while looking across Egypt, and seeing himself in here and out there at once and... _  
_

"Kurt?"

Startled, he whipped around towards the voice. His surprise quadrupled and he almost fell off the couch when he saw  _Wanda_  just a few feet away. She smiled sweetly when he made eye contact. Her hands were clasped loosely in front of her and she looked positively  _radiant_. The girl was no longer battle-worn and bruised and wearing her tattered flight suit; instead, she stood in a demure white dress, and her long hair flowed elegantly in maroon waves down her back. A crown of edelweiss flowers encircled her head, just like the kind Jimaine used to weave when she and Kurt were little.

" _Wanda?_ " Kurt reached out to her. He looked at his arm and raised an eyebrow; he was suddenly dressed in a fancy suit, like the one he wore to the winter formal. Now he was  _really_  confused. " _What_...?  _How_...? Where  _are_  we? And why are we dressed like this?"

"We're in your mind Kurt," she said as she stepped towards him. Said, in  _German?_

"How are you speaking  _German_?" Kurt asked. As soon as the words tumbled out, he touched his own lips, realizing his last question - all of his questions, actually - had been in his native language too, yet Wanda had understood him perfectly. She didn't speak any German outside of a few words Kurt had recently taught her.  _Somehow, this is getting weirder._

"Because I'm not really Wanda, I'm..."

" _Oh my God!_  You're... you're  _God_ , aren't you?!" Kurt interrupted. He  _must_  be dead - in fact, he just saw his own body seconds before when he looked out that window - and now this vision must be  _God_  coming to take him to Heaven. The indigo teen crossed himself quickly and got down on his knees, clasping his hands in prayer. The Wanda figure giggled and shook her head, motioning for him to stop.

"No Kurt, I'm  _not_  God," she said, taking his hand to help him stand. Kurt was surprised that her hand felt warm and alive, and she didn't disappear at his touch like everything else. "But I'm not the  _real_  Wanda, either. I'm part of your subconscious, like a thought in your mind." The Wanda figure then held out her skirt to display her dress. "This is just how you see the real Wanda, in your deepest thoughts. You chose this form; I can actually be anyone you want me to be." With that, she fluidly transformed into Jean before becoming Jiamine, Raven, Scott, Mama Margali, Azazel, and then finally Wanda again.

"What's going on out there?" Kurt pointed to the window. He didn't dare approach it again; he was scared any sudden movement would shatter the fragile world he now found himself trapped in.

"You're dying." The vision stated it as a matter-of-fact. She bade Kurt to come forward, and together they peered out. Kurt saw the real Wanda conjuring a tremendous amount of energy to cocoon his body in red light. The girl was shaking hard and her red aura was flickering. "Wanda is holding on to you by a thread. She can bring you back, but she can't do it alone. She's not strong enough." The figure turned to him. "You have to help her; you have to  _want_  to go back."

"Why don't I  _feel_  anything?" Kurt frowned. He saw Azazel and Ms. Agent MacTaggert as they huddled together and watched Wanda work feverishly. Both were in tears. "Why am I not sad? Or afraid?"

"Right now you're standing on the bridge between this life and the hereafter. It's not a place of emotions. It's a place of rational thought, a place to make  _decisions_. Kurt?" The Wanda figure put her hand gently over his, her eyes shining brightly. "You're here because you have to make a choice. She can't hold on forever."

"What are my choices?" He asked, and almost as if on cue, the entire room dimmed for a breath before becoming light again. The Wanda figure looked up and frowned.

"We don't have much time. You have to choose which door to pass through." She then pointed to the opposing ends of the room. At her words, both doors seemed to grow brightly. The room surrounding them started to shift uncontrollably, creating vignettes of various places that held meaning in Kurt's life: Xavier School classrooms, the Munich Circus's big top tent, the fight ring in Berlin... the only things that remained stable were the two doors and the window.

"Where do they lead?" Kurt eyed each door skeptically. They looked identical.

"I can't tell you," she responded, "you have to look in your heart and you have to choose where you want to be the  _most_."

In that moment, Kurt knew exactly where he wanted to be. He looked around again and this time, one door was glowing much brighter than the other. He walked to it and put his hand on its knob. It felt solid and real and cool to the touch. He hesitated before twisting it and glanced over his shoulder. The moment he touched the doorknob, the window and other door had vanished into darkness. The room's shifting was now happening so fast he couldn't even make out where he was anymore. The only thing that remained stable was the vision of Wanda.

"Before I go, can I ask you one more question?"

"Sure," the Wanda figure shrugged. The strange rolling shadows emerged from walls again and started pooling around her feet.

"What happened to the dinosaurs?" Kurt dropped his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "Like what  _really happened?_ "

"Kurt, I'm  _not_  God," the Wanda figure pursed her lips. "This is  _your_   _mind_ , remember? I can't tell you anything you don't already know."

"Oh, right. Yeah, I  _forgot_." He looked down, crestfallen. The Wanda figure laughed. She stepped towards him and wiggled her finger, bading Kurt to come closer. He leaned in.

"An  _asteroid_ ," she whispered.

"I  _knew_  it!" Kurt smiled as she shook her head. "Scott owes me a Coke!"

The room steadily grew darker and all recognizable features disappeared. Even the Wanda figure was starting to look a bit hazy. Kurt bit his lip.

"I won't remember any of this, will I?"

"Not really," she confirmed. "Whatever you do remember will be foggy and uncertain, like waking from a dream. It's time to make a choice, Kurt."

"I already know my choice." With his free hand, he took hers and brought it to his heart. "I want to choose the door  _you're_  behind. I want to see my  _friends_ , and my  _family_ , and  _you_." The Wanda figure smiled and learned forward, kissing him lightly, just as sure and sweet as the first time he and the real Wanda kissed. She released his hand and everything around him began to dissolve.

"Then just wake up, Kurt."

Kurt took a deep breath and opened the door. Her whisper faded as she melted into the shadows.

"Just... wake... up..."

...

_...Just ...  
_

_..._

_...Wake..._

_..._

_...Up..._

_..._


	47. Revelations

In Cairo, Egypt, on the 23rd of May 1984, all was revealed...

* * *

... Jean Gray let go of her fears and embraced the Phoenix...

* * *

... Raven Darkhölme closed her eyes and thought of her family...

* * *

... Peter Maximoff finally paused for a moment just to take it all in...

* * *

... Ororo Munroe knew now exactly which side she stood on...

* * *

... Erik Lensherr fought for his wife and daughter; now, for his son...

* * *

... Henry McCoy regained consciousness just in time to know everything was going to be alright...

* * *

... Warren Worthington III folded his broken wings around himself and cried...

* * *

... Scott Summers watched Jean in awe, vowing never to leave her side...

* * *

... Wanda Maximoff stood on the brink, doing the very best she could...

* * *

... Azazel promised anything to have his son back...

* * *

... Moira MacTaggert thought of Kevin, praying that he was safe...

* * *

... Elizabeth Braddock turned away, slipping into the shadows...

* * *

... Charles Xavier smiled as he watched everything unfold...

* * *

... En Sabah Nur finally saw a real God...

* * *

... Kurt Wagner made a choice...


	48. Mom

The brilliant glow enveloping Wanda and Kurt flickered and began to wane. Wanda pulled her hands back as she slumped against an overturned couch behind her. Once their connection broke, the light fizzled out completely.

One look showed Azazel that the girl was utterly  _drained_ : sweat drenched her hairline and her blood streaked fingers trembled as she panted, trying to steady her breathing. The palms of Wanda's hands were now bright red, almost sunburned. Next to Kurt lay the dagger, cleanly extracted from his body. Somehow Wanda had pulled the blade from his stomach and knitted the wound closed as she did so. How she was able to preform such a feat, Azazel had  _no idea_ ; these damn kids were surprising him more and more everyday.

But, so much of Kurt's blood was still lost, and the boy remained motionless. Silence descended in the aftermath of Wanda's herculean efforts. Azazel sat motionless himself, staring at Kurt, silently willing him to open his eyes or breathe or do  _something_  that would assuage his gnawing fear that it had simply been  _too late_. He couldn't even bring himself to ask out loud if Kurt was still  _alive_ , and part of him was terrified to even touch the boy less he find out his worst fears were realized.

Moira released him and quickly knelt at Kurt's side. She pressed two fingers against his carotid artery. After a few counts, she glanced back. Her sorrowful eyes spoke volumes.

"I can't  _feel_  a heartbeat." Pushing his fears aside, Azazel crawled past her and pulled Kurt back to him. He lightly slapped Kurt's cheeks, attempting to rouse him. The boy's skin felt cool to the touch, and his entire body hung limp in Azazel's arms.

" _Kurt?_ " He asked softly, shifting his hold to cradle Kurt against him. He felt tears threatening again as Kurt failed to respond in any way to his efforts.

"He's...  _gone._ " Moira whispered in horrified disbelief. She sat back, covering her face. Across from him, Wanda let out a choking sob. Azazel continued to hold Kurt, feeling his face screw up as he shook his head, his voice failing him entirely. He  _refused_  to believe his son was dead, not  _now_ , not after  _everything_. He held Kurt tighter, but he still couldn't feel a heartbeat or breathing. He pressed his check against Kurt's forehead, now rocking him gently.

_He can't be gone, he can't be gone, he can't..._

"He's still in there;  _I_  can feel him."

With all the excitement surrounding Kurt, the red mutant had all but forgotten  _Charles_  was in the room. His attention snapped to where the telepath was now sitting up with Jean's assistance. For the first time, Azazel suddenly realized how very  _quiet_  it was. With Charles conscious and Jean smiling, he quickly realized that En Sabah Nur must no longer be a threat; at least, not an immediate one. For the briefest second, Jean looked directly at him, and her eyes burned an unnatural gold before cooling to a deep blue. Unsettled, Azazel's gaze moved to the space behind her; he felt the cold tinge of shock when he realized an  _entire wall_  was missing from the house. Later, he'd wonder what  _exactly_  he'd missed during those critical few moments when Kurt lay dying in his arms.

Charles put his fingers against his temple and fixed his eyes on Kurt. After what felt like a lifetime, the telepath smiled.

"Just wake up, Kurt." Charles spoke out loud for the room's benefit. He closed his eyes, concentrating. "Just wake up."

Suddenly, Azazel  _swore_  he felt Kurt move. When he looked down again, the boy was...  _breathing!_  It was light and faint and it felt like he was  _barely_  holding on, but Kurt was breathing. Relief flooded Azazel's veins. He seized Kurt's wrist and applied pressure, almost crying when he  _finally_  detected a faint pulse. Moira clasped her hands as if in prayer, and Wanda leaned forward eagerly, wiping away tears with her burned hands. Slowly, the boy's breathing grew deeper and more even. Then, his eyelids fluttered.

Azazel held his breath.

Never had he seen anything more  _beautiful_  than Kurt's golden eyes blinking open and gazing up at him. Azazel smiled down at him, brushing Kurt's hair away from his face, not even attempting to fight the tears that came.

After a few seconds, Kurt glanced around at the astonished room. No one uttered a sound; all eyes were glued on the dead boy who'd just been resurrected, whether he realized he'd been or not. Kurt cleared his throat.

" _Um..._ what did I miss?"

* * *

One minute, Kurt was scared and bleeding and fighting hard to stay awake; the next, he was on the floor and everyone was staring at him like he was a  _unicorn_. His head was pounding like a marching band was using it for practice and he felt  _exhausted_. After addressing the room he practically passed out. Luckily, he was already on the floor, so all he had to do was lean back against Azazel's chest. The red mutant responded by wrapping his arms even tighter around Kurt, his grip feeling two parts supportive and one part possessive; even the man's tail was coiled around Kurt's leg, as if afraid Kurt was going to get up and leave.  _As if_ , the indigo teen thought, squeezing his eyes shut against the drumbeat pounding in his brain. He  _barely_  had the strength to talk, let alone stand or walk or teleport  _anywhere_  right then. He didn't even have the energy to ask how the  _heck_  the dagger had been removed and why he was no longer a  _mutant_   _kabob_.

It was officially and without a doubt, the  _strangest_  and  _longest_  day of Kurt's seventeen years alive. But, he was  _alive_  and so were the others, and as confusing as his present circumstances were, that's all that really mattered right now.

From the snippets of conversation floating around him, Kurt silently thanked God when Jean announced that everyone on the ground was accounted for, and that En Sabah Nur was no more. Ms. Agent MacTaggert had moved away to help Uncle Professor, and Wanda sat nearby nearby looking rather beaten up herself. Azazel hadn't said one word since Kurt came to, but he keep glancing down with this look on his face like he was really, really  _happy_  but also really, really  _sad_. Kurt had gotten used to Azazel's rather reserved nature; the man didn't often express emotions outside of an occasional smile or smirk, so it didn't really surprise Kurt that Azazel didn't seem to know if he was happy or sad right then, or really, how to make the faces that went along with those feelings. Kurt also wasn't that surprised that Azazel was so quiet. Clarice had warned him already that the man had a tendency to clam-up in volatile situations, and while Kurt couldn't remember  _exactly_  what happened after being stabbed, he knew it had been pretty serious.  _Serious enough that several of us are still covered in_ my _blood_ , he thought. Suddenly he wasn't entirely sure he even  _wanted_  to know details of what happened to him. What Kurt  _really_  wanted was to be home, safe and sound in a bed where he could sleep for an entire week. And for some reason, he also really wanted a Coke.

"We're still in Egypt, right?" He mumbled weakly. Oddly, he felt like they'd should be in Westchester or Munich instead of Cairo, even though that didn't really make sense. At the sound of his voice, Azazel rubbed Kurt back reassuringly, giving him another happy-sad smile. Kurt closed his eyes again and snuggled deeper into the man's arms. As childish as it was for a teenager to do so, he really didn't care. It felt really  _good_ , and really  _safe_.

"Yeah, we're still in Egypt," Wanda answered. Kurt felt her hand brush his shoulder, which made him smile.

"How did you even..." He heard Jean's astonished voice. "Wanda, what did you  _do_?"

"Honestly, I'm not entirely sure," she replied. "Um, Professor? What'd you call it again? The thing I can do sometimes?"

" _'Temporal healing'._ " Uncle Professor's voice sounded across the room. From the tone alone, Kurt could practically see the smile on the man's face. "It seems Wanda can create a barrier to isolate injuries, and essentially  _'rewind time'_  to make it as if the injury never even happened. I suspected you had that ability in your mutation, but not to this level. Wanda, I am very  _impressed._ "

"Thanks!" The red-head replied cheerily. Kurt was sure she was blushing at the praise. She soon got up and walked across the room. Soon, Kurt heard the quiet murmurs of Wanda and Jean talking.

"Kurt?" This time the indigo teen blinked. Uncle Professor was smiling at him, and as tired as he was, Kurt mustered back the best smile he could. He was genuinely so  _happy_  his uncle was alright and no longer in that villain's clutches. "You were trapped in your own mind, in a place so deep that normally only telepaths can access it. Do you remember  _anything_  that happened there?"

"It's all really  _fuzzy_." Kurt bit his lip. He could vaguely recall seeing his dorm room, having to choose something, and an asteroid, but it was all so jumbled, like a dream dissipating the moment he woke. " _Nein_ , I don't remember. But, I think..." Kurt frowned when the realization hit him. "I think I was  _dead_."

"I think maybe is time you teach me some of those prayers you say,  _mal'chik._ " Azazel finally broke his silence. He put his hand on Kurt's cheek, turning his face gently until the teen was gazing up at him. He then dropped his voice so only Kurt could hear. "Listen to me: I love you, since moment I know you are mine. Never forget this, s _on_."

Kurt put his hand over Azazel's and smiled. He closed his eyes and laid his head back on his father's chest.

"I love you too,  _Dad_."

* * *

"Charles, are  _you_  Ok?" The concern in Moira's lilting voice was soft and sweet. Her hand found his and squeezed it gently. "Do you know where you are?"

After making sure everyone was safe, Charles laid back down to recoup for a few moments. Finding Kurt had sapped much of his remaining energy. The boy had been lost in the deepest recesses of his own mind, a place difficult to access even for Charles. Add that to the fact that Kurt's mutation made normal mind-reading difficult, and one could really appreciate how much Charles had to concentrate to find him.

Exhausted or not, Charles opened his eyes and looked up at Moria. There was something else; something that still weighed heavily on his mind.

"I'm on a  _beach_ ," he smiled warmly, squeezing her hand back. "In  _Cuba_. With  _you_." Moira narrowed her eyes, appearing bemused as she shook her head.

"What  _beach_? What are you talking about...?" As she spoke, Charles reached out with his free hand and gently stroked the side of her face. Staring deeply into her hazel eyes, he summoned the last of his strength and pushed far into her mind, letting everything go:

... _Congratulations Professor..._ _Moira MacTaggert... Do you have a minute?..._

Image after image poured forth from the depths of Moira's subconscious where he'd locked away their love so many years ago. Moira's eyes flickered as if watching an unseen movie and surprise grew quickly on her face. She gasped and sat back, tears pooling in her eyes as the memories resurfaced.

"I thought..." Her cheeks wetted as she gazed down at him. "I thought I'd  _dreamed_  that kiss."

"I'm  _sorry,_ " Charles felt his lip trembling and his own eyes stung. "I'm so sorry. I  _never_  should have taken those from you."

She nodded, but didn't pull away. Instead, Moira gripped his hand tighter as she cried. For the first time in a long time, Charles felt hopeful.

* * *

Raven helped Peter to his feet. She slung her arm supportively around him, and together they hobbled out into the clearing. Her gaze darted to its epicenter. Nothing remained of En Sabah Nur save for scorched Earth marking where he'd once stood. Erik and the African mutant stood on the clearing's far side. Erik nodded approvingly at his companion before turning his attention to the limping pair. Raven eyed the girl warily. In the end, she'd turned to their side and attacked En Sabah Nur, but that didn't mean she couldn't still be a threat. Raven wouldn't feel comfortable until Charles or Jean had a chance to read her mind. Until then, Raven resigned that she'd just have to trust Erik's judgement.

Hank sat a few meters from the pair and gazed in marvel at the spot marking En Sabah Nur's demise.

"You Ok?" Raven asked when they got closer.

"Dude, you were totally  _zonked_ ," Peter added. "You missed all the  _excitement!_ "

"Tell me about it," Hank grinned with a half-smile, rubbing his head. "It already feels like I'm going to have all of the  _hangover_  and none of the  _fun."_

 _Leave it to Hank to find humor at a time like this,_ Raven smiled appreciatively as she shook her head.

"Hey, a little  _help?_ " Scott called out. Raven glanced over her shoulder. Behind them and a little ways off, the teen was still trapped in a wall of sand.

"Hang on, I got you!" Hank answered, excusing himself as he scrambled to his feet. He quickly jogged over and started working to free Scott. Raven scanned the area quickly as she adjusted her arm around Peter's waist. The speedster was heavier than his lanky body suggested; she guessed it was the dense muscles tissue from his high-speed running. Everyone on the ground was accounted for, and outside of Peter's leg and a few odd scrapes and bruises, it seemed the team was thankfully in one piece. Satisfied, Raven acknowledged Erik.

" _Thank you_. I mean that." She said with a curt nod. She then faced the African mutant. The girl quickly stood straighter and her eyes went wide, like she was suddenly nervous or star-struck. " _Both_  of you. Thank you."

"Yeah! That was totally  _badass!_ With throwing the metal X's and shooting lightening and...!" Peter raised a fist as he yelled his praise. The sudden movement threw him off balance, and he slipped from Raven's grasp.

" _Peter!_ " She lunged forward, but to her surprise, the African girl reacted instinctively, rushing to catch Peter just before he fell. She propped him back up in Raven's arms.

"Thanks! Hi, I'm Peter." He said unfazed, jutting his hand out and flashing his trademark smile. The African girl eyed him cautiously before taking his hand.

"Um... I'm Ororo."

"Ororo, can you help me for a moment?" Raven didn't wait for her reply before shifting Peter's full weight into Ororo's arms. The girl looked mildly alarmed to suddenly be in charge of the speedster, but Peter took his change of chaperones in stride. The blue woman then approached Erik.

"Hey, you can fly right?" Raven heard Peter ask as Ororo helped him sit. She figured they'd have to get Kurt or Azazel to transport the speedster safely into the house. "Ok, cool. 'Cause, I saw a destroyed convenience store like a few blocks away when I was scoping this place. Think you can fly over and check it out? Maybe see if anything cold to drink survived?"

"Erik?" Raven stopped in front of the metal bender, and motioned to the safe house behind them. "I need you to take me up there."

Wordlessly, Erik opened his arms. Raven knew the drill; she'd flow with him before, what felt a lifetime ago. She stepped up onto Erik's feet and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He put one arm around her waist, holding her securely. They lifted from the ground and floated effortlessly towards the house's second story. Raven steeled herself for what she might find inside.

The two mutants landed quietly on the exposed edge. She saw Moira and Charles first; both glanced over at her and Erik, tears dripping down their surprised faces. Jean and Wanda sat nearby, both talking quietly and looking utterly exhausted. Finally, she spotted Azazel and Kurt huddle together the room's corner.

Raven felt immense relief at the sight of them. She let out the breath she was holding and released Erik, stepping forward...

...and halting  _immediately_  when she saw all the blood.

Kurt was laying in Azazel's arms, both mutants had their eyes closed, and both were  _covered_  in blood. There was so much of it, splashed all over her son, and all over her husband.

Raven let out a pained gasped and stood rooted in place, her hands covering her mouth.

 _No!_ Panic rose in her chest.  _He can't be...! They can't be...!  
_

Azazel blinked, opening his eyes. He quickly spotted her and smiled, relief evident on his face. He murmured something she couldn't hear, and then Kurt opened his eyes and glanced over. He grinned happily, wide enough to show his pink-stained fangs. Raven remained frozen in place, not sure  _what_  was going on. As if sensing her fears, Kurt glanced down at his torn, blood-soaked flight suit and seemed to realize just badly it appeared.

"It's  _Ok!_ " He reassured, his gaze darting back to her. "I'm Ok,  _really_. Mom, I'm Ok."

 _Mom_.

It was the one word Raven dreamed of hearing since the moment she crouched in the motel bathroom, staring unbelieving at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test.

It was the one word Raven thought she'd never hear after the night she laid Kurt down in a basket at Margali's caravan door, turning her back on him and slipping away into the night.

It was the one word Raven never realized how much she  _needed_  to hear until that very moment.

Raven limped over to them, fell to her knees, and wept as she pulled her son into her arms. Kurt hugged her back fiercely, laying his head on her shoulder. As they embraced, she felt Azazel's arms wrap around both of them.

She finally had her  _family_ back, after seventeen years of pain and loss and hardship. This time, Raven was  _never_  going to let them go.

Behind them, she heard Hank and Scott reunite with the rest of the team. A few minutes later, Raven heard the sound of a small crash landing, Scott yelping, Ororo apologizing, and Peter's perpetually cheerful voice crying out:

"Hey everyone! Good news: we found  _beer!_ "


	49. The Plan

**_Safe Haven - Grounds Near the Former Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, New York_ **

" _Ouch!_ " Lucas yelped before shooting Clarice a sour look. "That  _hurt!_ "

"Well, it would've hurt  _less_  if you hadn't  _moved_  so much," she retorted, making a  _tisk-tisk_ sound. She finished tying the last stitch and set aside the bloody needle and thread. She then unscrewed the cap of brown medicinal bottle as she eyed Lucas warily. "Now  _hold still,_ because this part? Is going to  _suck_."

Without hesitating, she seized his wrist and simultaneously dumped a healthy dose of hydrogen peroxide onto his raw skin. Lucas inhaled sharply but didn't flinch or pull back as the disinfectant burned away any possible infection. Clarice gently patted his forearm dry and finished dressing the wound. In reality, the kid was  _lucky_ ; he'd taken one hard blow to his forearm, and while the cut was several inches long, it wasn't terribly deep and it didn't bleed badly. The injury could have easily been much worse. Jubilee and James had also taken a few good whacks and Clarice slipped off the roof at one point, but none of their injuries required medical intervention. She'd sewn up Lucas's cut as best she could while Danielle prepped a tetanus booster shot. Clarice was still in awe that the Professor had such shots and vaccines on-hand in the school's sick bay; even the KGB bribed doctors had trouble accessing these precious medicines. The few times she or Azazel required medicine, they had to break pharmacies after hours and take whatever they needed.

"There, good as  _almost_  new!" She finishing securing Lucas's bandage. "You'll probably have a scar, but..."

" _Cool!_ " The African American boy admired his newly acquired battle scar as Clarice smirked, shaking her head. She turned him over to Danielle's care and crept out of the makeshift infirmary, carefully tiptoeing around all the sleeping students and making her way back to her own cot. After the events of the last few hours, she was thankful for this opportunity to rest. Clarice needed time to sit and just think for a minute.

The vicious onslaught on their safe haven (actually, on the  _world_ judging by most radio broadcasts) halted as abruptly as it started just a short while ago, leaving the four defenders grateful for the much needed break. At present, both Jubilee and James were passed out in sleeping bags near the cabin's entry way. Before leaving Lucas, Clarice encouraged him to get some shut-eye as soon as possible. She didn't know how long this calm would last, and she could practically  _hear_  Big Brother lecturing about the value of resting when possible. She couldn't argue with that logic, not knowing exactly what was causing these violent outbursts and knowing her young comrades needed to recoup as much strength as possible if the attacks resumed.

Even knowing she should follow suit, Clarice wasn't sure she'd be able to relax enough to rest, not knowing that Azazel, Kurt, Peter and the others were still somewhere out there in the unholy storm.

When she finally arrived at her cot, she found it was already occupied: Luna was curled up in a little ball and snoring quietly in the bed's center. In one hand she clutched the locket Clarice have given her earlier. They hadn't yet found its rightful owner, and Clarice was beginning to hope the little girl could just keep it. She smiled as she watched Luna stir slightly and resettle.

" _Shhhh_..."

Clarice glanced at the neighboring cot. Alex was wide awake and sitting up. He pressed one finger to his lips as he nodded towards Luna. A shortwave military radio rested in his lap against his arm's sling. He waved for Clarice to sit with him. She quietly perched on the side of his bed, kicking off her shoes and rubbing her feet. She didn't realize how weary her entire body was until she the moment she sat down.

"Any news?" She whispered, pointing at Alex's radio. Since the attack started, the blonde mutant tuned into every station that still broadcasted a signal to gather intelligence.

"Nothing much since last report," he responding quietly, shaking his head. "All I know is something _big's_  going down in Cairo. The UN's evacuating the city and the entire center is ground zero for that same weird storm that attacked us. Military vehicles can't get in to see what's up, but if I had to guess? I think it's our X-Men fighting the  _assholes_  who kidnapped Charles. The only real news is all the metal attacks seemed to have stopped across the world."

"What do you think  _that_  means?" Clarice searched Alex's face in the dim lighting. She'd heard the term  _X-Men_  once before from Azazel, and she found it interesting that Alex applied the label to the current team.

"Well, the metal is from Magneto for sure, so either the X-Men either convinced him to join forces," Alex shrugged casually, "or they took him out."

" _Huh_ ," she nodded, casting her eyes at the floor. She knew  _exactly_  who Magneto was now, thanks to Peter. Her heart suddenly lurched when she thought of the speedster, wondering what he thought of all this, and if he was alright. She wondered if the others were alright, or if anyone was hurt... Clarice sighed rubbed her tired eyes. She really didn't want to think about  _any_  of that, not when she was so helplessly far away.

"They're  _good_  kids," Alex said after a few moment's silence. She looked back up and raised her eyebrow. He clarified by nodding towards Jubilee and James. Lucas had joined them, and he sat nearby reading a comic book with the aid of a small flashlight. A small, proud smile graced Alex's face. "They're very brave. My first  _real_  fight - well, the first one  _purposely_  using my mutation, at least - I wasn't that much older than they are now, and that was in Cuba."

"What happened in Cuba?" Clarice asked curiously. She was surprised when he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, looking rather confused.

"What do you mean,  _'what happened in Cuba'_?" He was now staring at her in such a way she felt almost embarrassed, like she missed something important and should know exactly what he was referencing. "Didn't Azazel ever tell you about the  _Cuban Missile Crisis?_ "

" _Nyet_ ," she slipped into Russian before catching herself. Clarice shook her head; she was more tired than she realized. "Why would he tell me about Cuba?"

"Because he was  _there,_  and... well, so was  _I_ , and so was Charles, Hank, and Raven."

" _Really_?" Clarice's interest was officially peaked. She knew about Azazel's connection to Westchester through Raven, but he'd never actually told her much about his past, or really anything associated with his years before Clarice was a fixture in his life. Now she was being told he had a history with several key people at the school. _Interesting._ "You're  _sure_  it was Azazel?"

"Well, let's see..." Alex rolled his eyes. "He was  _red_ , he  _teleported_ , he used my mutation to shoot a bunch of soldiers, and then he almost stabbed Hank in the eye with his  _tail_. Sound familiar?"

"Ok yeah that sounds like him," Clarice quickly said before pouting slightly. Big Brother wasn't exactly the best at first impressions, although he certainly did make  _lasting_  ones. "Sorry about that -  _all_  of that - on his behalf. He's a lot... um,  _nicer_  now? And less...  _enthusiastic_ , I guess? And, he wouldn't hurt you now, or anyone else here at the school. He...  _we_  actual really love it here." To her surprise, Alex laughed quietly and waved his hand in dismissal.

"I'll admit I wasn't exactly  _thrilled_  when Charles allowed him to crash at the school, but I know he had his reasons and I trust Charles. And, I've watched Azazel work with Scott and his friends in their little fight club these past few weeks. He seems like a decent teacher, and Scott really likes him."

"Yeah, Azazel's really good with kids," Clarice grinned, thinking back to her early training days. Big Brother had the patience of a saint, and he was always ready with praise or constructive criticism to help her improve.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Clarice shrugged.

"Scott's friend Kurt... is Azazel related to him somehow?" Alex questioned. "It's just  _uncanny_  that they both have tails and teleport the same way."

"I'll never tell  _comrade,_ " Clarice winked and smiled slyly, making Alex smile in return.  _Spilling the beans once was enough, thank you_. Before she could stop herself, Clarice suddenly yawned. She quickly covered her mouth and looked at Alex slightly embarrassed. She was enjoying chatting with him, and didn't want to imply he was boring. To her relief, he laughed quietly.

"You should really get some rest," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing. She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand. "Don't worry. I'll keep watch. I'll wake the second anything gets weird."

"Thanks," she smiled and carefully moved to her own cot. 'Night Alex."

" _Dasvidaniya comrade_ ," he replied in an exaggerated accent.

"That means  _'goodbye,'_ " Clarice laughed, shaking her head. Grabbing a crutch, Alex hobbled off towards the front doors.

She laid down and tried her best not to disturb Luna. The second her weight shifted the cot, however, the little girl rolled over and clung to Clarice. She put her arms protectively around Luna and stroked her silky hair until she was soundly sleeping again. There was something about Luna's attachment that reminded Clarice of her own behavior when she was little. For the longest time after Azazel named her, she'd sneak into his room after he'd gone to sleep and curl up next to him. She couldn't explain why she trusted him; given the history of her short life until that point, one would think Clarice would abhor being that close to anyone, let alone an adult man. But, there was something about Azazel that made her feel safe, like Tuan had. The following morning she'd always get a lecture about not sneaking into people's rooms, but the few times Azazel woke and she'd pretend she was asleep, he'd always put his arms protectively around her, never once actually kicking her out. For two people who lived lives of limited physical interaction, there were times they both just needed the comfort of another person nearby.

Clarice snuggled close to Luna, falling asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

* * *

_**Ground Zero - Cairo, Egypt** _

"So... what happens now?" Scott volunteered the question Raven was sure everyone was thinking. "I mean, we can't just sit here."

"Speak for yourself,  _Brah._ " Peter interrupted, scowling from the floor. He crushed an empty beer before tossing it to the ground. He was trembling visibly and his flight suit was soaked, not all of it from the desert city's heat. Raven could only imagine the pain he was in, now that the adrenaline rush of the battle was over. At least Hank manged to stabilize his leg, but even he quietly acknowledged that Peter needed proper medical attention.

Wanda laid a bandaged hand on Peter's shoulder and spoke a few quiet words to calm him. The speedster cracked open another beer. Raven frowned; she wasn't sure it was a good idea for him to be drinking when so grievously injured, but the beer was probably helping numb the pain and at the very least, it was distracting him. It was a shame Wanda couldn't heal Peter's leg the same way Azazel explained she healed Kurt, but her previous efforts left her with with minor burns on her hands, and her powers were still far too drained to be effective. By the time she recuperated, it would be too late to reset Peter's leg; Hank determined that her needed surgery soon to correctly set the bones.

But before they could do that, they had to escape Cairo.

Erik hovered on the outskirts of the room, not far from the Maximoff siblings. Raven noticed he hadn't quite claimed Peter yet, but he kept a watchful eye on the silver-haired boy whenever he thought Peter wasn't looking (and ironically, Peter glanced at him whenever he thought Erik wasn't looking). The metal bender had startled upon seeing Azazel in their midst - surely believing the red mutant was as dead as Raven had a mere seven months ago - and he  _definitely_  raised an eyebrow when he looked at Kurt (or more specifically, raised an eyebrow at Raven when he looked at Raven, Kurt and Azazel huddled together). Ororo stood in Erik's shadow with her arms loosely crossed. The poor girl looked bewildered by the sudden shift in events, and hadn't spoken a word since she accidentally crashed into Scott a short while ago. Jean had discretely read their minds and let everyone secretly know that neither Erik nor Ororo meant any harm, so their presence was tolerated.

"This beer tastes like  _piss_ ," Azazel mumbled quietly in Russian, frowning at his can of  _Sakara_.

"I don't even  _want_  to know why you know what  _piss_  tastes like," Moira snickered back in Russian, earning her a quiet chuckle. "At least it's  _cold_." Raven glanced down at her own can. It was the weakest beer she'd ever had, but Moira was right; at least it was cold. Everyone was drinking one, save for Kurt. Raven could tell that Charles was less than thrilled that his very underage students were drinking alcohol, but he had enough sense to remain silent. The kids had, after all, just saved the world.

"May I have another Coke?" Kurt asked as he shifted slightly in Raven's arms, gazing up at her. She smiled, ruffling his hair affectionately as Azazel cracked open another soda. Kurt took the sugary drink gratefully and sipped it, leaning against her. He was sitting up on his own now and looking much better, thanks to the blood transfusion Hank managed to rig up using supplies from the same store Peter and Ororo procured the beer and soda. As it turned out, Hank was a universal donor, and his feral mutation allowed him to give a few pints of blood with no ill effects. Raven was beyond grateful; not only had Hank helped her son, but judging by the friendly smile on Azazel's face, Hank's selfless generosity had erased any ill will between the two men.

Even though Kurt was stabilized, Raven was reluctant to leave his side. She'd taken over Azazel's spot comforting Kurt as Hank prepped the transfusion, and held him for the thirty minutes it took. Raven could only guess how much Azazel's ribs were aching from holding Kurt, and besides, it was  _her_  turn now. Her guilt had created a barrier from Kurt all these months at the school. She never allowed herself to get too close to him, or touch him in any affectionate way. She'd never even hugged him. Raven ignored the curious looks thrown in her family's direction; they'd have time enough to explain everything later. Right now, it was her turn to indulge in comforting her son.

But, Scott's question addressed an important fact, one they couldn't ignore much longer: it was time to make a move. Soon the UN or Egyptian military would converge on the broken city, and the mutants were not in friendly territory. Even though her team had essentially (as Peter fondly stated) "saved the world," if there was one thing Cuba taught Raven, it was that humans didn't often take the time to distinguish between friend and foe when mutants were on the stage.

"Azazel?" Hank addressed the red mutant. "Think you can jump all nine of of us out of here?"

" _Eleven_ ," Charles corrected, motioning to Erik and Ororo. Both blinked and stood straighter when they realized Charles was speaking about them. Erik opened his mouth, but Charles waved him silent. "You two can't stay here. It's not safe. At least let us take you somewhere safer before you decide if you want to part ways."

" _Twelve_ ," Kurt added. All eyes alighted to the indigo teen, and Raven raised her eyebrow while Azazel mumbled something about not being a _clown car_. She'd only counted eleven individuals in the room; where did he get a twelfth? To her surprise, Kurt then turned to Erik of all people.

" _Herr Magneto?_ " He cleared his throat. " _Ich frage mich, ob du mir mit etwas Wichtigem helfen kannst?_ "  _I wonder if you can help me with something important?_  Raven easily translated her son's question. She watched Erik's eyes lit up when he heard his native language.

" _Ja,_ " the metal-bender tilted his head. " _Was brauchst du?_ " Kurt then stood and held his hand out to Erik.

* * *

Kurt and Mr. Magneto appeared just a short distance from the safe house, standing a few meters away from the steel cage. Just as he had hoped, the angel was still inside. This time, he was awake and crouched on the ground, his wings wrapped around his body like a security blanket. Kurt took a deep breath to calm his nerves. It wasn't easy for him to do this - to confront the man who'd violently attacked him twice - but if Kurt got a second chance at life, maybe this young mutant deserved another chance too. He couldn't leave Cairo without trying. Kurt motioned for Mr. Magneto to hang back, just for a few minutes.

Slowly, the indigo teen approached the cage and cleared his throat. When the angel noticed him, he stood quickly, nearly bumping his head on the top of the cage. He flexed his wings menacingly, but the gesture didn't quite have the same effect as before. His metal feathers lay scattered all around him, discarded and broken on the ground. Soft, downy feathers were in their place, many of which looked so new it gave the mutant the appearance of a young, fledgling bird. Kurt stopped just a few feet away from the cage and clasped his hands in front of him. The winged mutant eyed him cautiously.

"He's  _dead_ , isn't he? Nur?" He asked Kurt quietly in German. Kurt nodded. The angel hardened his face and jutted his chin out. " _What_  do you want? Did you come back here to  _laugh_  at me?"

"No," Kurt answered in their common tongue, holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture. He took another step towards the cage, but still maintained a safe distance. "I came here to tell you that I'm  _sorry_ , and to ask for your  _forgiveness_."

"...  _What?_ " The angel shook his head, scowling. "This this some kind of  _joke?_ "

"I hurt you in Berlin, and I've felt terrible every day for it," Kurt sighed. "I didn't mean to damage your wing, but I didn't want to die. Those men who put us in the cage to fight, who would have killed us if we didn't, they are the real monsters. But... I still hurt you, and I'm asking forgiveness the pain I caused."

The angel looked unsure at this turn of events. Kurt was certain he'd been spoiling for a fight - it seems like he'd been fighting his entire life - and to received an apology instead must be hard to believe. The young mutant's wings drooped slightly before he extended the left one in full. Kurt could see the scarred skin and a distinct lack of feathers in several places.

"My wing never healed," the angel said thickly. Kurt studied it for a moment before snapping his fingers.

"I know someone - a medical doctor  _and_  a mutant like us - he might be able to help you," Kurt offered. Then, taking another chance, he stepped forward and extended his hand within striking distance of the cage. "Would you like to come with me and meet him?"

"How do I know I can  _trust_  you?" The winged mutant quickly stepped back and now looked very unsure.

"You can trust him," Mr. Magneto answered in German as he walked out from behind the wreckage.

" _Magneto!_ " The angel perked up at the sight of his former ally. Kurt smiled; the man's presence had the exact calming effect on the angel that Kurt desired.

"It's just  _Erik_  now, and he's telling the truth. I know the mutant doctor he's speaking about and if anyone can help you, it's him." The angel was silent for a moment as he seemed to consider the weight of Mr. Magneto's words.

"Can you get me out of here?" He asked, glancing around his metal cage.

"Easily," Kurt thrust his hand through the bars. The angel took it in a firm handshake.

"My name is Warren," he said, and for the first time, something like a hint of a smile grew on his face.

"I'm Kurt," he replied, smiling widely. "It's nice to finally meet you."

* * *

"Without Cerebro," Charles paused to shake his head, "my telepathy can only reach so far. I'm sorry, but Westchester is way out of range."

Azazel nodded, but still frowned. He'd quietly asked Charles if it was possible to contact Clarice to make sure she and the others left behind were alright. Azazel didn't have the strength to make a solo jump across the Atlantic Ocean, let alone with twelve passengers. At best, he might be able to get the group to southern Europe if he really pushed himself. The red man turned away, mulling over Charles's words. He caught Peter's eye. The speedster had a pensive look on his face, his attention surely drawn at the mention of Clarice's name. Dr. McCoy and the weather witch were gone; the girl knew of a nearby pharmacy and could read Arabic, so she volunteered to help the scientist find medicine to help take the pain out of Peter's leg so he could travel. Azazel hoped they found enough for him as well. His chest was really starting to hurt, now that the day's excitement was waning.

Blue and black smoke suddenly appeared in the middle of the room. This time, Kurt made quite a stir when he, Magneto and some new mutant - one who looked like an angel - appeared in the middle of the room. Everyone who could jumped to their feet. Kurt quickly stepped in front of the new mutant and held his arms out protectively.

" _Stop!_  It's  _Ok!_  Don't hurt him!" The boy pleaded to his startled comrades. Behind him the angel looked quite alarmed and beat his wings a few times. Azazel watched Magneto put his hand on the angel's shoulder to reassure him.

"What is going on?" Charles pinched the bridge of his nose as he stared at their newest edition. Jean touched the side of her head, no doubt assessing the new mutant.

"Unc... um,  _Professor?_ " Azazel noticed Kurt correct himself. The boy was being smart; now wasn't the time to explain their rather unorthodox family, even if they'd already gotten a few looks. "If you've talked to someone before using your mind, how close do you need to be to reach that person again?"

"It depends on the person, but a few miles' radius is usually pretty safe," the telepath answered. Kurt then turned and pointed at Azazel.

"Do you think you can get us to Munich from here?" Azazel considered the request for a moment. Munich was in southern Germany. It wouldn't be an easy transport with twelve, but if he concentrated hard enough, he should be able to get to the city or close to it.

" _Da_ , but why?"

"I have a plan!" Kurt smiled triumphantly.


	50. Meine Familie

_**Englischer Garten (English Garden) - Munich, Germany** _

" _Fireflies!_ " Peter giggled as he leaned over the side of the rotunda waving his arms.

"Peter,  _stop!_ " Wanda chided.

"If you fall, I am  _nyet_  catching you." Azazel gave a stern warning as Wanda grabbed Peter's shirt and hauled him back for the  _third_  time. The red mutant stood nearby with crossed arms, watching the speedster wave at the little glowing dots bursting to life on the ground below... which, was a good  _five meters_  below. Wanda looked pleadingly at Azazel as she struggled to restrain her brother. He sighed in resignation and stepped closer, wrapping his tail around Peter's arm to prevent him from tumbling.

"I do this for  _you_ ," he nodded at Wanda, who smiled back appreciatively.

"And for  _Clarice!_ " Peter added, an inebriated grin spreading across his face as he squeezed Azazel's tail.  _Hard._ "Because she's my  _girlfriend_  and you love her too, because she's your  _sister_ , but not like your  _real_  sister, 'cause you adopted her... or she adopted you? I can't remember. Hey! Didja know your tail feels like a  _snake?_ " Peter then gave his tail another solid tug and starting making hissing sounds, cracking up as if it was all some grand joke.

"Maybe I  _push_  you off instead?" Azazel glared at him.

Panic flashed in Wanda's eyes before Azazel shook his head to let her know his words were in jest.  _Mostly_  in jest, anyways. Thankfully, Scott picked up on the tense vibe and quickly scooted over, putting his arm around Peter to help keep him safely in place. The silver-haired youth then started rambling on about music, most of his words badly slurred. Azazel released his tail and stepped away. Clearly, morphine and Peter did not mix well, even if the drug did ease his pain. At the rate Peter was dissolving into giggling fits, Azazel was glad Dr. McCoy didn't find enough of the drug for both of them; personally, he'd take the pain of broken ribs over acting like an  _idiot_  any day. Azazel resumed his self-appointed post of lookout, gazing across the landscape.

Night was setting and the thirteen were hiding in the middle of Munich's main city park. Waiting for  _what_ , Azazel wasn't entirely sure; Kurt, Charles, and Moira were huddled secretively off to the side, trying to contact someone Kurt knew in the area. Raven was speaking with Magneto while Dr. McCoy examined the angel's damaged wing (Azazel would admit later that despite his cautious nature, he was rather eager to interact with the angelic mutant; he'd spent a good part of his life clarifying that he wasn't a biblical  _demon_ , so finding someone in similar shoes felt almost  _refreshing_ ). The large urban center wasn't the most  _ideal_  location to hide, but the park was the best Azazel could do with the strain of carrying twelve passengers, and at least it was fairly empty. For safety, they'd elected to hideout on top of the park's large central rotunda. Europe still wasn't as mutant friendly as America, even in the west.

Nearby, Jean and the African girl chatted quietly while sorting through a pile of clothing. After getting the group to Munich, Raven suggested that she and Azazel teleport to a nearby shopping mall. The two mutants quickly snatched duffel bags and armfuls of clothing, with Raven's mutation allowing her to select appropriate sizes for everyone. The mall was closed and had evidence of looting, so no one was going to notice if a few more items were missing. Her idea was smart, one he hadn't thought of, even though he needed  _real_  clothing and she did not. Most of the team's flight suits were spoiled from battle, and the horsemen couldn't exactly walk around in their  _war regalia_. Azazel was personally  _thrilled_  to finally get out of his flight suit and into slacks and a button down (black, of course). He only wished he'd had the opportunity to bathe first; his skin still reeked of blood and battle.

As he stood watch, Azazel's hands absentmindedly drifted to his pockets. His fingers graced the hard surface of a concealed necklace. While Raven was selecting items for the teens, he stood guard outside and happened to see a jewelry store. Displayed in one window was a sapphire pendant on a delicate silver chain. The gem was cut into a heart and surrounded by a row of tiny, brilliant diamonds. Many of the store's windows were already smashed, but for whatever reason, the lovely little necklace was spared. He took it immediately with the thought of giving it to Wanda as a 'thank you' for saving Kurt's life. Knowing Wanda and Kurt's innocent natures, he'd have to keep quiet about how  _exactly_  he'd acquired the necklace, but he reasoned that a jewelry store would be well-insured and losing one more piece wouldn't be too damning. Plus in his experience, women  _loved_  jewelry; well, except for Raven of course. She was difficult to gift anything to, since she never wore real adornments. Luckily, he figured out early on (and thanks to Angel) that what Raven  _really_  liked were sweets and flowers, so those was always well received. He was confident that Wanda would like the necklace as a token of his gratitude.

Besides, blue was her  _favorite_  color.

Azazel felt a hand press gently against his lower back. Raven now stood next to him, looking over the Munich landscape with a serene expression. She slid her arm around his waist, careful to avoid his injury. Azazel smiled down at her. They had some private time at the mall, but only to exchange a few affections, and nothing as...  _dramatic_ , as back at the military base, but those few moments had been sorely needed. He knew they still had so much to talk about; really, the  _three_  of them had so much to discuss. Since the moment Kurt blurted out  _'Mom'_ and  _'Dad'_ under duress, they hadn't had a moment to actually talk about it. Their little family was still riding on the high of good tidings, but eventually Azazel and Raven had to sit down with their son and reveal the truth of their lives, and Kurt would certainly have questions. Azazel was hoping to push off the hard questions as long as possible; there were dark things in his past that he still didn't want Kurt to know about. He wanted time alone with Raven too, before telling everything to Kurt. They had things to discuss between them, and needed to approach the more difficult topics of their lives as a united front. And of course, there was Clarice to consider in all this; she had to be folded into Raven's life as they had to fold into Kurt's.

The easiest part was acknowledging that the four were family; the hard part now was making it all work.

"What's that noise?" Dr. McCoy asked as his turned away from the angel. He sniffed the wind and his fur bristled. After a few seconds, Azazel too could hear a faint, rhythmic thumping. His hand moved away from the necklace and to the hilt of his dagger. Raven drew her arm away and flipped her scales into a nondescript disguise. He cocked his head, listening carefully. The noise sounded oddly like...

" _Riders!_ " Scott pointed in the distance. Sure enough, two horses broke the treeline and moved swiftly towards park's center. Each beast carried a cloaked rider. Azazel drew his dagger as Magneto stepped forward and held his hands ready. Behind them, Jean put her fingers to her temple and the others quickly scrabbled back, concealing themselves in shadows.

Only Kurt seemed excited, racing forward to lean over the rotunda's edge. He smiled widely.

"Professor, it  _worked!_ " He yelled before disappearing. Kurt landed on the ground and quickly began waving his arms. The riders spurred on their mounts. One pulled into a rear just a few feet from Kurt while the other rider practically vaulted off their horse. The cloaked figure threw their arms around Kurt and picked him up off the ground, spinning him around several times. Then, the two began speaking in rapid-fire, almost giddy German. The second rider dismounted and joined in the overly friendly greeting. It was too far away and Azazel's German too poor to translate, but they were all clearly pleased to see one another. He re-sheathed his weapon, curious as to what this was all about.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Everyone, please meet Stefan and Jimaine, my step-brother and sister!" Kurt said proudly when the trio appeared on the rotunda roof. "They're going to take us somewhere safe. Oh, and they speak English, so don't be shy!"

Both riders threw back their cloaked hoods and smiled at the group. One was a young man, maybe twenty years old, with olive skin, shaggy black curls and bright emerald eyes. The other was girl in her late teens with ivory skin, large cobalt eyes and long golden hair woven in a braid. She was startlingly pretty, and Azazel couldn't help but smile when he looked at her (as did several of the other males present).

The siblings' smiles began to shrink, however, when the two finally got a good look at their step-brother's ragtag group.

" _Deine Freunde sind sehr... bunt_ ," Jiamine said quietly, her eyes widening as she looked at Dr. McCoy and the angel. Then they seemed to notice Azazel for the first time. Both startled, their shocked eyes darting from him to Kurt, and Stefan actually  _crossed_  himself. Azazel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

" _Ich bin kein Dämon._ "  _I am not a demon_. He knew enough German to say that, at least.

" _Nein, es tut uns leid!_  ... Sorry, we mean no disrespect!" Jimaine shook her head, her pretty smile returning. She jabbed Stefan sharply with her elbow, and he nodded quickly in agreement, although Azazel felt the young man wasn't wholly convinced. "We are just...  _surprised_  is only. It is not everyday we see a group of people as...  _unique_  as our Kurt. How can we help you?"

"We need to get Peter to a hospital," Dr. McCoy said as he thumbed over his shoulder. Peter was now singing off-key about safety and dancing and actually  _trying_  to dance, which was keeping Wanda aggravatingly busy. "Do you know one where he can go? Hopefully, without raising too much suspicion?"

" _Ja_ , of course!" Stefan responded. "I can take a horse and help your friend to a nearby hospital, one we gypsies use. They are used to seeing...  _oddities,_  and they don't ask questions, so your friend will be safe." He whistled and a dappled horse obediently trotted to the base of the rotunda. Jimaine then eyed the group carefully.

"Can everyone walk a few kilometers? Or Kurt, can you transport everyone in groups? I can lead you all back to our camp, and Stefan can join us after helping your friend."

"I can transport everyone," Azazel offered. A few kilometers wouldn't be too difficult for him, and much easier faster than everyone walking. He nodded to Charles.

"Right: Jimaine, if you'll permit Jean to read your mind," the telepath smiled to reassure her, "then she can show Azazel exactly where to teleport everyone. But, let's get down from the roof and take care of Peter first."

The trip to the ground was surprisingly quick for such a large group: Kurt took Jimaine and Stefan; the African girl flew down with Jean and Scott; the angel glided while holding Charles; Dr. McCoy leaped with Moira on his back; and Magneto floated down with Raven.

With Wanda's help, Azazel got Peter to his feet. She supported his other side as the three vanished.

" _Wheeeeee!_ " Peter exclaimed as soon as they reappeared. He quickly trapped Azazel in a bear hug before the red mutant could get away. Wanda started trying to pry him off. "Dude, that is  _soooo_  much fun! I know we've like, had  _problems_ , but I want you to know that I love you, and..."

" _Get. Off. Me."_  Azazel hissed as he shoved Peter. He stumbled backwards - Azazel immediately reaching to grab him, having pushed Peter a bit rougher than intended - but to his surprise, Magneto stepped forward and caught Peter before he fell. The youth blinked rapidly, looking up at his father in surprise. Magneto suddenly seemed at a loss for words.

"I'm going with Peter, because... I can... I can  _translate._  I speak  _German_." He stated firmly, as if he had to justify his decision.

"Erik...?" Raven started, but the metal-bender waved off her concern.

"They shouldn't recognize me in West Germany," he concluded. Peter smiled happily and mumbled ' _dadneto,_ ' and something almost like a smile appeared on Magneto's face.

" _Shouldn't,_  but that's not a  _guarantee_ ," Charles added. "Which is why I..." He paused to look Moira, and she nodded. "Which is why _we_ are accompanying you both."

"Charles, I don't need..."

"No arguments, old friend," the telepath held up his hand. "My abilities are essential if we find ourselves caught in a jam, especially since Peter can't quite keep his mouth shut under painkillers. Besides," he motioned to his legs, "I'd  _really_  like a new chair, and a hospital seems like a good place to find one."

"Ok, so Professor, Ms. MacTaggert, Mr. Magneto, you go with Stefan and Peter," Kurt directed. Stefan seized both horses' bridles and led the animals over. He and Magneto started helping Peter onto one while Dr. McCoy placed Charles onto the other, and Moira behind him for support. "Everyone else, come with..."

"I'm going with them, too." Wanda interjected quietly. Azazel watched Kurt pause and look surprised. Wanda shrugged. "He's my brother. I need to be there when he wakes up from surgery. And, I need to find a phone and call my mom to tell her we're Ok."

"Oh,  _ja_... right, of course," Kurt nodded, rubbing the back of his neck in thought. He then forced a smile, but Azazel could practically feel the reluctance radiating off him. Apparently, so did Jean.

"Why don't you two go say a quick goodbye?" She motioned towards the rotunda. "It will take them a few moments to get Peter on that horse anyways, and for the rest of us to get ready. We'll can spare a little time."

Both teens smiled gratefully and clasped hands, disappearing immediately. As Azazel watched Kurt's smoke dissipate, he put his hands back in his pockets to wait.

Suddenly, he got an idea.

* * *

The young couple appeared just on the far side of the rotunda, standing on the shore of the park's large lily pond. Not wasting one precious second, Kurt took both of Wanda's hands and pulled her into an embrace. It felt like forever ago since they had a moment to be alone. He knew this park and chose this spot because it was scenic; but most important, it out of sight of everyone else, affording the teens privacy...

... which was almost immediately interrupted by Azazel's sudden appearance.

 _"Dad!"_  Kurt admonished as he pulled away quickly. Wanda blushed so deeply that her cheeks burned almost as red as father skin. Azazel, however, seemed unfazed by their reactions; if anything, he seemed almost  _amused_.

"Please to excuse us," Azazel nodded cordially at Wanda as he grabbed Kurt's arm and pulled him to the side. Wanda walked a few feet away and politely turned her back to them. Kurt practically glared at Azazel, wide-eyed in frustration; he had a few minutes alone at most with Wanda.  _He'd better have a dang good reason for..._

"Here," the red mutant whispered as he picked up Kurt's hand. Before Kurt could ask  _what_ , he felt something cool and hard drop into his palm. Azazel grinned as he gently folded Kurt's fingers over it. "For your  _devotchka._ "

Raising an eyebrow, Kurt uncurled his fingers. He gasped when he saw the small necklace. The gemstone heart almost matched the deep hue of his skin, and the row of tiny white stones surrounding it glimmered like starlight.

"Where did you get this?" Kurt whispered as he looked back up. The necklace was  _beautiful_ , and it looked rather  _expensive_.

"Does  _nyet_  matter."

"But where… ?

"Kurt, do  _nyet_  worry…"

"You didn't, like  _steal_  this, did you?"

"Look," Azazel held out his hands, as if trying to sell Kurt on an idea. "We saved world a few hours ago,  _da?_ "

" _Ja_ , I guess so," he shrugged.

"Ok, that means world owes us  _big favors_  for saving it, and right now, one of those favors is letting you give nice gift to  _devotcka._  Understand?"

" _Ja_ , but I  _can't_..." The indigo teen balked, looking down again. The necklace seemed like such a grand token of affection. Kurt was rather unschooled in courtship rituals, and he didn't want to make a fool of himself. "This seems like  _too_  much."

"Listen  _mal'chik_ ," Azazel tapped on Kurt's chest lightly, "father advice starts now: women love jewelry, never apologize without flowers, always carry condoms, never underestimate what your tail can do, after-argument sex is the  _best,_ and..." Azazel hesitated when he saw what Kurt was sure must have been a look of abject horror on his face.

"Ok," he added, waving his hand dismissively, "maybe forget I say last part."

"I'm going to forget you just said  _most_  of that," Kurt grimaced.

"Well, at least be trusting me on this part,  _da_?" He patted Kurt's hand. "See you in few minutes."

Kurt watched Azazel's fiery smoke vanish. He looked again at the little necklace. Azazel had sounded so confident, but Kurt couldn't image that he'd ever given Raven much jewelry, seeing how her mutation would make wearing anything real a liability. It suddenly dawned on Kurt that his father was probably was referring to giving  _other women_  jewelry; women who were  _not_  his mother.

 _Oh Sweet Baby Jesus!_ Kurt shook his head as if trying to banish the thought. He certainly didn't want to think anything like  _that_  about either of his parents.

He closed his fingers around the necklace again and took a deep breath, turning towards Wanda. She was now skipping stones across the pond's surface. Judging by the number of ripples, she was really good at it. Kurt cleared his throat and she turned around.

"So, ' _mom and dad_ ,' huh?" She asked casually as she dropped her handful of stones and walked over. "Sounds like there's a  _story_  there."

" _Ja_ , one I will tell you as soon as  _I_  know it myself." Kurt smirked as Wanda took his free hand. "Actually, I just found out this last week. Sorry, I would have told you, but I wanted to tell them first, and..."

"There's no need to apologize," she interrupted. "I understand. Families can be difficult, as Peter is often fond of reminding me."

"Wanda, you saved my life..." He paused, trying to think of the right words to express himself. "I want to thank you for that, but just saying  _'thank you'_  doesn't seem to be enough. The Professor - well, actually my  _Uncle_ , and I'll explain that later too - he told me you could have really  _hurt_  yourself by using your powers to that extreme." He studied her face seriously for a moment before quietly asking: "Why did you do it? Why did you risk yourself for me?"

"Honestly, I didn't really think about it," Wanda shrugged. "I did it because it was the  _right_  thing to do. And, I guess I just don't want to be anywhere you're  _not._ You were on the edge there, almost gone, but you pulled through. What made you come back to us?"

"I wasn't entirely  _truthful_  when I said I didn't remember what happened," he admitted. "When I was dying, I remember seeing and talking to you in my mind, and you gave me a choice: I could go on, or I could come back. Of all the people in my life, you were the one I wanted to see the most. And so I made the choice to come back and be with you and my family."

Wanda smiled and blushed again. The two teens stood quietly for a moment, lost in thought.

"I,  _um_..." Kurt held out his hand. "I have something for you."

Curious, Wanda watched as he uncurled his fingers.

"Oh  _Kurt!"_  She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in delighted surprise. "Oh, it's... it's..."

"It's too much, isn't it?" Kurt asked in alarm, starting to pull his hand back. She quickly stopped him.

"No, it's...so  _beautiful!_ "

"Do you want me to...?" Kurt motioned to put the necklace on. Wanda nodded enthusiastically and swept up her maroon hair as she turned around. Kurt swallowed hard and could feel his pulse racing as he draped the chain around her neck. It took him a few attempts to fasten it; he never really was great with small clasps or tiny buttons, and being so close to Wanda didn't exactly help keep his hands from shaking.

When done, she let down her hair and turned around to show him the necklace. The silver chain sparkled like her eyes and her deep red hair complimented the sapphire's brilliance. It looked stunning on her, and judging by the size of the smile on her face, Kurt had to admit that Azazel had been right.

Suddenly, Wanda rushed forward and threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight.

"I love you," she whispered, making Kurt's heart soar.

" _I love me too!_ " Kurt practically yelled.  _Dummkopf!_  " _Nein!_  I mean... I love Wanda! I love us! I love..."

She pressed her lips against his.

 _You know what?_  Kurt thought as he kissed Wanda back.

_I love this._

* * *

Raven waited on pins and needs for Kurt and Wanda's return. The instant Stefan had thrown back his cloak, her heart plummeted, and she'd immediately pieced it all together. Of course, Stefan only been a toddler when she last saw him and there was no way he'd remember her, but his bright green eyes and dark curly gave away his identity before Kurt even spoke: they were the same colors as his mother's. It was then that Raven realized the "safe place" they were headed to was the gypsy camp, which meant she'd soon be in the presence of the woman to whom she  _abandoned_  Kurt seventeen years ago.

A woman who Raven had  _no idea_  how she'd react when she saw Raven again.

She still wore a disguise and was trying desperately to recall which one she used when she first stumbled upon Margali's people so long ago. The woman had seen her natural skin, so Raven couldn't hide behind her blue scales; had she worn her blonde disguise, or some version of it? For a longest time in the East if she needed to wear human skin, she'd used her Raven face but with red hair (Azazel always favored her red hair). She nervously shifted her coloring to make her hair dark brown and her eyes hazel. She darkened her skin to to be more tan than cream, and gave herself freckles. She didn't think she'd worn any face like this during her brief time in Germany.

Raven seriously considered going with the hospital group instead, but couldn't think of a good enough excuse to join them. Plus, there was no way Kurt or Azazel would let her slip away, not now.  _Maybe I should shift into a man's skin?_  She bit her lip, mulling it over. Azazel accepted her in any form, but she'd have a hard time explaining to Kurt why she was suddenly wearing another gender, let alone not her own blue skin anymore.

 _Some_ 'mutant and proud' _I'm turning out to be_ , she thought as she sighed and rubbed her face.

Raven jumped slightly when a hand touched her arm, and her skin rippled. She turned quickly to see Azazel. He quirked his eyebrow as if asking if she was alright. She tried to smile and wave away his concern, but he seemed unconvinced. Before he could ask though, Kurt and Wanda appeared back in the mix. A minutes later after saying goodbyes, the team split in two and all were ready to go.

"Ok everyone: line up and hold hands!" Kurt directed the remaining mutants. Stefan clucked for the horses to get moving. Raven watched as the gypsy boy led the first horse carrying Charles and Moira while Peter and Wanda were astride the second, led by Erik. Azazel took Kurt's hand, and Raven took Scott's. Down the line, everyone linked-up.

"Jimaine, are you ready?" Jean asked. The girl smiled and nodded. "Ok; just close your eyes and concentrate on what the camp looks like..."

"Well," Kurt smiled, taking Raven's hand to link her and the others with Azazel. She hoped he couldn't feel it shaking. "Let's go meet the rest of the family,  _ja_?"


	51. The Munich Circus

_**The Munich Circus Camp - Bavarian Forest, Munich Germany** _

_This is all so... surreal,_ Raven thought as she stood on the outskirts of the hidden gypsy camp. Everything before her seemed to spark some long-forgotten memory: the dancing firelight, the boisterous laughter and music, the jewel-tone caravans, and even the soft whining and scent of the horses, retired and grazing for the night. Every sight and sound and smell transported her back seventeen years to the day she stood young and alone and afraid, cradling her baby against her heart and praying for salvation.

It didn't take long for the people to realize that nine newcomers now stood in the shadows just beyond their main camp. A commotion erupted at the nearest fire and soon enough, a small crowd gathered. The mutants quickly banded together, with Azazel moving in front of Raven, Scott and Jean while Warren extended his wings protectively in front of the others.  _There's nothing quite like strangers carrying torches to inspire solidarity_ , she mused, although the crowd radiated curiosity rather than vengeance. In any case, Jimaine and Kurt jumped to their rescue, pushing forward and quickly quelling the excitement. Quite a few faces were pleased to see Kurt, and several people rushed to hug or shake hands with their prodigal son.

" _Aus dem Weg!_ " A voice suddenly cried out, and the crowd began parting for someone pushing roughly through it. Raven's eyes went wide and she gripped Azazel's arm tightly as she shrank back into his shadow. Her gaze fixed on a break in the onlookers just as a diminutive woman burst into view. Her wild black curls were tamed back by a long scarf, and its ends sang with tiny gold coins that gleamed like a crown against her olive skin. Her bright emerald eyes lit-up when they landed on Kurt.

" _Liebchen!_ " She cried joyfully as she ran to him, her arms open wide. She practically tackled Kurt, and he responded by hugging her back so hard that his tail wrapped around both of them.

"Is she...?" Azazel whispered in Russian, transfixed by the woman hugging their son. Raven swallowed hard and nodded, unable to summon her voice. Sensing her fear, Azazel took her hand in his and squeezed it.

Of course, Raven recognized Margali Szardos Wagner in a heartbeat.

She'd forgotten how petite Margali actually was. In Raven's mind, the woman loomed like a foreboding giantess, reminding her every day of the difficult decision she was forced to make; in reality, Kurt stood a good head taller than his adoptive mother (honestly, the boy was nearly as tall as Azazel and still growing). The two spoke rapidly in German, too fast for Raven to fully translate. She watched Margali pinched Kurt's cheek and listened to her admonished the school for not feeding him enough, and she heard Kurt tell her a little about their perils as he motioned to his group. Raven didn't hear Kurt utter the words  _Mutter_  or  _Vater_ , which was good; the blue woman realized right then that she should have talked with Kurt before they left the park. Margali spoke a few words to Jimaine, and the girl nodded and slipped away into the camp. Margali then looked over each mutant as Kurt explained their situation. The gypsy woman had a calculating stare, one that spoke volumes but shared nothing all at once. While her eyes seemed to dwell a bit longer on Azazel, her fortuneteller's face betrayed nothing, and if she recognized Raven in her disguise, Margali gave no indication. Eventually, she patted Kurt lovingly and stepped away, turning to face the newcomers.

"Welcome to the Munich Circus," Margali greeted them in English, holding her arms open in a welcoming gesture. "Kurt tells me you are his friends, and if you are the friends of my  _son_ , then you are friends of my  _family_. Our home is your home, as long as you may need it."

As she spoke, Jimaine reappeared behind her, hauling two buckets. She was trailed by a few children carrying what appeared to be bundles of towels. Margali paused and smiled in acknowledgment before continuing.

"Kurt also tells me have faced much hardship today. Perhaps you would like to clean up, and then we will find you all hot food and warm beds, _ja_?" Several of Raven's teammates nodded, and Magali turned back to Kurt. She spoke a few words in German, and Kurt agreed with her enthusiastically.

"Ok everyone!" Kurt clapped his hands together as he turned towards them. "Boys follow me, and girls follow Jimaine.  _Alles gute, ja?_ " He grabbed a bucket from his sister and a touch from a nearby onlooker and started walking down a side path. A few children carrying towels fell into line behind him. After a few steps Kurt stopped and turned back, waving for the others.

"She does not see you," Azazel whispered as he pulled his hand away. Raven looked up quickly, her eyes wide with panic as they locked onto his. He stroked her hair reassuringly, tucking the loose ends behind her ear. "I will not be far, or long. You will be alright." She nodded, but suddenly felt very exposed as he walked away. She watched as Scott, Hank, and Warren left as well. Ororo now looked alarmed as Raven felt as both Hank and Warren disappeared. Ever since Erik's departure, the last two horsemen had latched onto Hank as a safe person. Jean quickly slung her arm around the African mutant and offered a friendly smile. Both girls fell into line behind Jimaine, who now carried her own torch and walked down an opposing path. Raven quickly followed, keeping her head down and her eyes glued to her feet. Part of her swore she felt Margali's eyes boring into her back as she passed.

After a few minutes of walking through the dusky woods, the group reached the banks of a small river. Raven could hear distant splashing and muffled voices downstream. Jimaine set down her bucket and lit several torches posted along the shoreline before handing her torch to the eldest child. She then began untying her dress as the children deposited their towels and scampered back towards camp.

"Thankfully, the water isn't too cold this time of year," she smiled as she stepped out of her clothing. She grabbed soap from her bucket and added with a smirk: "I assure you, it is  _not_  fun washing in the winter." The blonde girl waded into the river. While she was distracted, Raven quickly flipped her scales to appear nude and entered the water as well.

"I love my horse," Jimaine laughed, now waist deep in the water and loosening her braid, "but I do not love  _smelling_  like her." She then looked back and frowned slightly. Raven turned around to see Jean and Ororo still standing the shore fully clothed and seeming rather unsure of what to do.

"Do not worry!" Jimaine reassured. "The men wash far downstream. This part of the river is for  _women only_ , and the night will give you privacy."

Eventually Jean and Ororo followed suit, but they hid their nakedness until they were fully submerged. Nudity never bothered Raven much, but she understood the girls' modesty and hesitation. She accepted the bar of soap from Jimaine and worked it into a thick lather. The river wasn't too deep and its current was minimal. As she washed, Raven wondered how long they'd stay at the camp.  _Certainly not too long_ , she mused. Charles would be eager to return to Westchester, and Peter's hospital stay would be a day or two at most.  _Plus, Charles won't risk keeping that_ motormouth _in public anyways_. She knew Peter meant well, but keeping quiet wasn't exactly one of his strong suits, and her brother wasn't going to risk Peter accidentally exposing their identities, or Erik's for that matter.

 _I can do this,_  Raven rallied, splashing water on her face.  _I can stay in this disguise for a few days, just until we leave._  She began washing her hair and finally started to relax. Nearby, Jean and Ororo were chatting amicably with Jimaine as they bathed. It felt like a baptism to scrub the filth of the day off her body. She realized she'd have to talk to Kurt as soon as possible to explain that it just wasn't the right time to reveal his parents' identities to Margali and the others, not yet. She knew he'd be upset, but she was sure he'd understand, once she explained her side of...

"It has been a long time,  _Mystique_."

Raven felt a cold surge of fear and she choked on river water as she spun around swiftly towards the voice. Margali stood on the shore, her arms tightly crossed as she leaned against a tree. The expression on her face was unreadable.

"I think we need to have a little  _talk_."

* * *

If modesty was a concern for the girls, it certainly was a  _different_  story downstream.

"I'm  _King-of-the-Mountain_!" Scott proclaimed loudly as he stood tall on a boulder in the middle of the river bend. He flexed his arms in strongman poses, naked to the world and not giving a damn who saw. It took only a few seconds for the king to be dethroned by a burst of blue smoke appearing at his left side and pushing him into the water.

"Hey! We agreed  _no mutations!_ " Scott sputtered as he burst up of the water, one hand on his glasses to keep them in place.

Kurt's clung to the rock like a gargoyle, laughing as his tail wagged behind him. His reign was short-lived, however, when a silvery wing shot from the darkness and knocked him down next to Scott.

"All bow before your  _new_ king!" Warren snickered triumphantly from his perch.

As the boys dissolved into a playful argument about whether or not Warren's wings counted under their 'no mutations' rule, Azazel eyed the dark water cautiously. He didn't mind swimming in the tropics where the water was as clear as glass and one could see many meters down; it was these black water lakes and rivers that evoked the deep seeded, childhood fear when he was almost drowned in that box. It also didn't help that it was dark outside. It wasn't quite nighttime, and there were torches planted at the river bank for illumination, but still...

He wasn't going in deeper than his waist, in any case.

"It's good to see them just being  _kids_ , especially after today," Dr. McCoy -  _Hank_ , Azazel reminded himself - said with a grin. Azazel nodded in agreement. The three had abandoned the rock in favor of splashing and dunking one another in the deeper parts of the river. It was good to see them behaving like kids, and it was especially good to see Warren joining in their boyish play. It gave Azazel some hope that the boys could put the nightmares of that day behind them, and retain their innocence a bit longer. He noticed when Kurt disrobed that he now had jagged line winding down his abdomen. Azazel wondered if Kurt would carry a scar there; he hoped not, as he looked over his own constellation of scars, each one a reminder of the hardships of his life.

Margali wasn't exactly what Azazel had expected, either. From the picture Kurt painted of his domestic life, Azazel had expected his adoptive mother to be older and more matronly, yet Margali was slip of a woman who possessed an untamed girlishness that made her seem younger than her years. Truthfully, she appeared the same age as Raven, which meant Margali had been in her young twenties when she adopted Kurt. Now that he thought on it, once again he wasn't entirely sure how old  _he_  actually was. He knew he'd been born sometime between the world wars; if he had to guess, he'd say somewhere in his late forties or early fifties, not that it mattered. Still… there was something fierce about Margali, something commanding that he admired in the few minutes she addressed them. He was interested in speaking with her, and learning more about Kurt from the perspective that only a parent could provide.

Azazel started washing his face and his thoughts drifted to Raven. While he wanted to speak with Margali, he could tell Raven was terrified of her. His poor wife was nearly quaking with fear when he left her to follow Kurt to the river. He wanted to protect Raven from whatever demons were plaguing her, but he knew they'd have to confront the woman who raised their son whether Raven wanted to or not.  _Maybe I should speak with Margali first and feel her out_ , he reasoned as he combed his fingers through his hair. If Margali held any anger towards them for  _abandoning_  their child, she'd be hard pressed to direct it at him since he had no idea Kurt existed until about seven months ago. He might be able to use this as leverage to get her to understand and possibly forgive Raven's motives.

He gave his hair a final rinse. It felt so good to finally wash the blood off his skin, and he was  _really_  looking forward to eating and sleeping. He didn't even realize how hungry he was until Margali said  _'food'_  and like a flipped switch, his stomach started growling. Eating and then sleeping sounded downright  _amazing_  after the day's events. He'd certainly used his mutation to its extreme, and he doubted he'd be able to jump back to camp at this point, even if he wanted. He wasn't so young anymore, and he certainly wasn't invincible. Even Azazel needed to rest sometimes.

Hank stood on all fours on the shore and shook like a dog. As Azazel waded out, he was quietly grateful that his mutation didn't give him any issues drying off. The water had felt good, abet colder than he'd have like, but it felt wonderful to be clean again.

He grabbed a towel and dried off, calling out for the boys to quit screwing around and finish washing. They eventually trudged out by the time he finished dressing. When they returned to the main camp and reunited with their teammates, Raven was curiously absent. As Azazel looked around for her, a young woman thrust a piping hot bowl and a fresh loaf of bread into his hands. She smiled warmly but disappeared before he had a chance to thank her. He looked down at his bowl. It looked like some kind of stew, and it smelled delicious, making his stomach growl harder. The others had already settled around the main fire, and Kurt appeared to have launched into a story as people surrounded him to listen.

Azazel smiled and dipped his bread into the bowl, but just as he was about to take a bite, both were yanked out of his hands.

" _You_ , come with me now." Margali suddenly stood before him, holding his food captive and wagging a finger for him to follow her. Not waiting for a reply, she turned on her heels and walked to a dark green caravan, disappearing through its burlap door. Azazel stood confused for a moment, blinking at his hands where his dinner had just been when Margali head ducked back out and yelled: "now means  _now!_ "

He felt foolish as he practically jumped at her command. Scowling, he pushed through the caravan's cloth door, prepared to demand his dinner back when he stopped in his tracks, surprised flooding his entire body. Raven stood inside the caravan at a small stove and stirring something in a pot. Save for a simple white dress, she was completely  _blue_. She glanced over and gave him a meek smile, but the worry in her eyes was palpable.

"Stir  _faster_ , or it will  _not_  mix properly!" Margali ordered as she bent over and rummaged through a nearby basket. Raven nodded obediently and twirled the spoon with more energy. The gypsy stood up, now holding a small blue vial. She added a few drops of its contents to Raven's pot, and soon a minty smell wafted through the interior.

"Unbutton your shirt and sit over there." She pointed to a bed, her back to Azazel as she now combed through a drawer. He frowned, not sure where this was going, but unbuttoned his shirt as he walked to the bed. His eyes lit up when he saw his bowl of stew and bread on the small table next to it. He picked up a spoon to dig in, only to have it land squarely on the table with a dull thud as Margali once again snatched the bowl from under it. She then deposited cloth dressing on the table, and turned to take over stirring from Raven. The blue woman sat down at the table across from Azazel. He sighed, but perked up when he saw the bread still there. Just as he reached for it, Margali turned around.

" _Nein_ , not until we are done!" She slapped his hand with the spoon.

"Done with  _what_?" He growled as he slunk back, rubbing his knuckles. She held up the spoon and for a fleeting second, he cringed as if she was going to hit him again. Instead, she motioned for him to lay back. Margali then pulled a stool to the bedside, and picked up his right arm. She carefully bent it so his hand was behind his head and his rib cage fully exposed. His elbow rested against her knee. His skin was already darkly bruised and nearly black in a few areas.

"Azazel, is it? Lay still." Margali said as she put her hands on his chest and pressed along various pressure points. He sucked his breath in sharply as she worked. He could tell she was being gentle, but her prodding still hurt like holy hell. After a few silent minutes, she sat back and nodded.

"Two breaks," she assessed, motioning for Raven to hand her the pot, "but, I've seen and fixed worse. You are very lucky; Mystique, watch now what I do so you can do it for him later." Margali then began to slather the pot's mixture onto his ribs. The ointment had an immediate cooling effect, and began drawing some of the heat and pain from his injury. Whatever it was, it felt pretty damn good. He started to relax, a little.

"There, we let that sit for a short while to dry," Magali pushed her stool back so she could see both of them clearly. "And, if I know anything about Kurt's stories, he'll be telling this one for an hour. Plenty of time for us  _parents_  to have a little chat,  _ja_?"

* * *

_**Stadtkrankenhaus (City Hospital) - Munich, Germany** _

"Here, you look like you could  _use_  this."

Erik's face snapped up as Charles wheeled over, offering him a small Styrofoam cup.

"Have you heard anything?" Erik asked quietly as he accepted it. He took a sip, immediately making a face. Charles laughed and took a drink from his own cup. It tasted  _terrible_ , but the weak cafeteria coffee was the best they could do at present. A few chairs away from Erik, Moira was curled into a ball and sleeping soundly, drooling slightly on her shoulder. Her own cup of coffee was ice cold on the floor next to her.

"Yes, Peter's out of surgery. They had to put two rods in his leg to stabilize the bones, and he'll be in an extensive cast for a good two months, and then require physical therapy after that. But, he is expected to make a full recovery, so really, it's good news."

"They told  _you_  all that?" Erik seemed impressed. They'd had difficulty procuring any information about the speedster, seeing how not even Wanda could prove she was Peter's immediate family. But, Charles had some tricks up his sleeve.

"No, they didn't tell me anything, actually. Luckily, I can simply read the surgeon's mind and get the diagnosis directly," he smirked. "See? I told you my talents would come in handy,  _o ye of little faith_."

Erik smiled slightly and shook his head.

"And tell me again  _why_  you won't just make the staff understand we are his  _family_?"

"Because," he wheeled into the open space next to Erik. "It takes far easier less energy to read minds than change one's thoughts, and I only sway people when it becomes absolutely necessary."

"Um...  _Max_?" Wanda spoke Erik's alias from down the hallway, and both men turned. She was standing next to a payphone, cradling receiver against her shoulder. "I need another quarter... sorry, ' _Deutsche Mark'?_ " Erik nodded and then moved his hand to hairline. To the causal onlooker it would appear he was just fixing a cowlick, but in reality, his movements were gently manipulating the inside of the payphone. Seconds later, Wanda smiled and gave a thumb's up. She turned her back to continue the call to her mother.

Charles swirled the bland coffee in its cup. Stefan had left a few hours ago, promising to come back in the morning to check on them. Erik's German was able to convince the intake staff to get Peter into surgery almost immediately, and also to get Charles a new chair and a quick check-up. As they sat in the surgical ward's waiting room, the telepath tuned the small television to the BBC. It seemed that Munich hadn't suffered the worst of the world-wide destruction; several parts of the city had been looted, but they were lucky the Munich hospital wasn't packed. There were several parts of the world that saw extreme damage, including portions of the United States. Erik had turned away from the broadcasts, unable to face the images of the destruction his wayward hands caused.

On the ride to the hospital, Charles had spoken privately with Moira about possibly securing a federal pardon for Erik, seeing how in the end of all things, he had been a crucial element in bringing down En Sabah Nur. He could still feel Erik's pain and loss, and Charles knew in his heart that his friend had been recruited in a moment of blind, catastrophic suffering. The Erik that stood next to the blue villain wasn't the Erik that sat now in a hospital, fretting over the health of a son he just discovered. There was  _good_  in him still; Charles could feel it radiating around Erik as he thought of Peter. Charles wasn't worried about the other horsemen who'd joined their ranks. Ororo and Warren were young and followed their false god with nativity and promises of things beyond their control. He sensed good in them too, which was why he allowed the two to journey west with his students.

"Today has been...  _quite_  the day." Erik surmised, folded his arms and leaning back against he wall. He turned slightly to look at Charles. Next to him, Moira continued to snore quietly. "I didn't expect to see Raven, and certainly not  _Azazel_. I thought he was  _dead_."

"We  _all_  thought he was dead," Charles shrugged.

"The blue boy? Kurt?" Erik looked searchingly at Charles. "He's  _theirs_ , isn't he?"

"Yes," he nodded. "He's my nephew."

" _Funny_ , you didn't mention a  _nephew_  in '73."

"Well, Raven didn't exactly mention she had a  _son_  when I saw her in '73, either. I knew as much as you did, my friend."

"I met Peter in '73." Erik suddenly frowned. He uncrossed his arms and rubbed his face. "I  _wouldn't_  have... I had  _no idea_."

"From what Peter told me, his mother didn't tell him who you were until  _after_  the events at the White House. So, he didn't know about you either, and he only recently contacted me to try and find you. Don't beat yourself up about it."

"He is mine? You're  _sure_  about that?" Erik looked carefully at Charles again. In spite of his friend's stoic expression, the telepath could feel the waves of intense longing around Erik. He so desperately wanted this son to fill the void that the death of his family created. Charles nodded; he was happy to give this peace to him.

"Hank did a paternity test as soon as Peter arrived at the school, and he's an  _exact_  match to your DNA. He's  _your_  son, Erik."

The man nodded and looked down at his hands folded in his lap. He remained quiet for a long time. Eventually Charles cleared his throat.

"What are you planning to do after this, now that you know?" It had been a question nagging Charles since Erik appeared with Raven in the Cairo safe house. Charles had wanted Erik to come back to Westchester, back to his mutant family, since the day they parted ways on that nameless Cuban beach. He wanted to build a future with Erik at his side, to work towards creating a world where mutants and humans could live in peace and harmony, where villains like En Sabah Nur had no place or cause for quarrel.

Mostly, Charles knew part of him just selfishly wanted his best friend back.

"I don't..." Erik sighed heavily. "I don't know. I haven't thought beyond the next five minutes to be honest."

"Come back with us, Erik." Charles laid his hand over Erik's and squeezed it. Erik turned to him, seeming to search his face. Charles smiled. "Come back to Westchester, at least for a little while. Get to know your son before you decide what to do."

Erik looked away and didn't respond. Eventually though, he squeezed Charles's hand and nodded before letting go.

Wanda walked back over and flopped into a seat across from Erik and Charles. Her dramatic landing roused Moira, who in turn yawned and stretched, mumbling something about trying to call Levine again.

"Well, the  _good news_  is that mom's safe and it seems Westchester county hasn't made the nightly news, so they're probably safe too," Wanda sighed and blew the hair away from her face.

"And the bad news?" Charles asked.

"Peter and I are  _grounded_  for the entire summer for sneaking off to Egypt and then Germany."

"How can you ground a  _twenty-six-year-old_?" Erik frowned.

"You apparently haven't met my..." Wanda started to say ' _mother_ ,' but her voice faded. She looked sheepishly at Erik. "Sorry, I mean... I guess you  _have_  met my mother, actually."

"I'll talk with her Wanda, no worries," Charles reassured, "and if anything, I promise to provide you and Peter with a safe haven for a few weeks."

"No, it's Ok," she smiled and waved her hand, "she's just in full panic mode. Once she calms down and realizes that we helped  _save the world_ , she'll be fine." Wanda then turned to look at Erik for a few seconds. "So, you're Peter's real  _dad_ , huh?"

"Yes, I suppose I am," Erik responded. She narrowed her eyes, considering him carefully, and twisted her small blue necklace as she watched him. Eventually, she spoke.

"Peter's going to be  _super excited_  to finally talk to you when he wakes up, which is why I'm going to say this now: don't you  _dare_  start something with him that you're not ready to finish." Wanda stood up and jabbed her finger in Erik's face. Charles swore for a second that his friend looked intimidated by the teenage girl. "If you're planning to walk away from Peter, then do it now before he wakes up, and before you break his heart. He can be a real pain in ass sometimes, but he's my  _big_   _brother_ , I love him, and I'm  _not_  going to let you hurt him."

Erik blinked rapidly a few times. Honestly, Charles hadn't been prepared for the ferocity of sisterly love that spewed from Wanda. Slowly, and for the first time that day, Erik broke into a wide smile.

"Has anyone ever told you that you remind them of your mother?"


	52. Together

_**The Munich Circus Camp - Bavarian Forest, Munich Germany** _

"Hold  _still_ , or this will take even  _longer!_ " Margali gently scolded as she pulled the bandages tighter. Raven watched Azazel dig his fingers into the bed's frame. She was surprised he hadn't yet splintered the wood.

"How did you recognize me?" She asked quietly as the gypsy worked. The blue women had dropped her disguise the moment she passed through the caravan's door. It seemed like an insult to keep pretending she was someone else when Margali knew full well her true identity.

"That was e _asy,_ " she smirked over her shoulder as she tugged on Azazel's dressing again. He swore under his breath. "You have the same nervous tick as Kurt whenever I have caught him telling a lie.  _What?_  You think Kurt has  _never lied_?" Margali chuckled at what Raven was sure must be a look of pure shock on her face. Even Azazel seemed taken aback by her comment.

"Oh, do not look so surprised, both of you! Every child goes through a  _rebellious_  phase. I have raised three of them, and I am an aunt to many more so trust me, I  _know_." She gestured towards Raven's rapidly cooling bowl of stew. "You really should  _eat_  something."

"Sorry," Raven answered, poking at her food halfheartedly. Unlike Azazel, she really wasn't hungry. "I just have a hard time picturing Kurt as the  _'rebellious'_ type."

" _Naja,_ you have known him for less than one year, and now he is a responsible young man. But when he was young, I certainly caught him in a few  _fibs_ ," Margali grinned, her eyes sparkling with memory. "There was one time - I think Kurt was eight, and he and Stefan were playing 'American Cowboys' - and Kurt let all the horses escape. He told me they knocked down their fencing and ran away, even though the fence was intact but the gate was wide open. It took us four days to track them all down again, and it put the Circus behind schedule for an _entire week!_  And when he was twelve, Kurt and Jimaine sneaked off to the center of Köln to see the cathedral at  _night_ and  _alone_ , right after I lectured them on the dangers of going into the city. His excuse? He claimed he couldn't always control when and to where he vanished. Can you  _believe_  that? He was always such a good boy, but there were times I thought I would have a  _heart attack_  over his antics!"

She laughed and shook her head as she finished securing the bandages. She then sat back, wiping her hands on her apron.

"There," she nodded at Azazel's chest, "how does that feel now?"

"... Much better,  _actually_." He answered begrudgingly as he sat up and started buttoning his shirt. Margali gave him a half smile before handing him back his bowl of food. His eyes lit up gratefully, and his enthusiasm digging into his stew certainly made up for Raven's lack of appetite.

"The ointment draws out pain, and the bandages keep everything secure. Azazel, make sure to drink this," she placed a small vial on the table next to the bed, "just before bedtime. It will help you sleep with the pain. Mystique, you watched me dress his ribs carefully,  _ja_?" She turned to Raven. "Because you will need to help change his dressing every other day, or anytime he bathes."

Raven nodded. She wasn't looking forward to that task, seeing how much pain the process caused, but it was good to see Azazel feeling better now.

"And," Margali continued, turning back to the red mutant and looking him up and down, "if she is  _Mom_ , then you must be  _Papa_. I see now where Kurt gets his height."

"Gets tail and hair color, too. Other colors, from Raven." Azazel clarified, his voice muffled from chewing. Raven rolled her eyes at his astute observation.

" _Ja_ , I can see this." Margali watched him devour his food for a few seconds longer before making a  _tut-tut_ sound. "Slow down; it is not a  _race._ There is plenty of food for seconds." She sighed, and turning to face Raven again, she thumbed at Azazel over her shoulder. "I thought he was  _dead?_ "

"Up until this year, so did I," the blue woman shrugged.

"And by time she had Kurt, she was dead to me," Azazel added. He then paused and seemed to consider his words. He put down his spoon and held up his finger, pointing at Margali as if to exonerate his statement. "But I make  _mistake_. I did  _nyet_  know Raven was with a child. I would have followed her, had I known this, even if only for Kurt."

"And Kurt knows who you are? Both of you?" The two mutants nodded. Margali sat back, rubbing her chin in thought. "How  _much_  does Kurt know about your pasts, or the circumstances around his birth?"

"Not much," Raven answered truthfully. "We actually just found out a few hours ago that Kurt even knows we're his parents. We haven't yet had a chance to talk with him about any of it, really." Margali nodded slowly and seemed to consider this as the three sat without talking, the only sounds being Azazel's eating. Finally, she cleared her throat.

"Mystique, I do not know the full truth as to why you gave up your son; and Azazel I do not know why Mystique was dead to you, or you dead to her seventeen years ago, but I do know  _Kurt_." She paused to take deep breath, her expression hardening. "He is a  _blessing_  in my life, and as much a part of my  _heart_  as my own flesh-and-blood children, Stefan and Jimaine. Do not think for  _one second_  that just because  _you_  are Kurt's birth parents that  _I_  will permit you to bring any harm into  _my son's_  life!"

" _What?_ " Azazel quickly set down his bowl and held up both hands in alarm. "We do  _nyet_  wish harm!"

"How well do you actually  _know_  Kurt?" Margali asked, narrowing her eyes.

"' _Know'_ Kurt?" Raven frowned, not liking this tipping point in their conversation. "What do you mean,  _'know'_? We're his parents, and..."

"Oh  _ja_ , his  _parents_. I  _forgot_. So you must know  _everything_  then?" Margali interrupted with an angry sarcasm. " _Mom_ , who is Kurt's favorite movie star?  _Papa_ , when he was little, what did he want to be when he grew up: a pirate or a knight? Both of you: what is his favorite circus act to preform? The age when he lost his first tooth? The name of the girl in our camp he has a crush on? What vegetable does he despise?"

Raven held Margali's gaze for a few more seconds before she cast eyes to her hands, now folded in her lap. Even Azazel quietly looked away.

"It is as I thought," Margali huffed, crossing her arms tightly and glaring. " _Ja_ , you are his  _parents_ , but  _I_  raised him. I know him, because  _I_  am his Mama."

Raven suddenly felt ashamed to be sitting there, trying to argue with the woman who raised her son. Until just a few minutes ago, she couldn't even fathom that Kurt would ever tell a lie. Now she realized that Margali was right; she and Azazel might be Kurt's parents, but they actually knew very little about their son.

A heavy silence descended onto the caravan, and Raven felt like she was suffocating.

"We can  _nyet_  take back the time lost," Azazel said quietly, breaking the terse standoff. He reached out and put his hand over Margali's. "I...  _we_  regret that very much. But we are here  _now_ , and we  _want_  to know our son. We would have kept Kurt if it had been possible and our choices different. We will  _nyet_  turn our backs, leave him, or bring harm in any way.  _Never_  will we do this, I promise to you."

Margali stared at him for a long time before speaking. Finally, she withdrew her hand and adjusted her headscarf.

"Tell me the story, both of you. Tell me how it is that a child who was wanted by both parents came instead to be in my care."

Raven started slowly, telling the tale of Charles and the X-Men, then moving on to the Brotherhood, and of finding her soulmate in Azazel. The red man added details when necessary, spoke about their time in Russia, and told how their paths tragically split before either knew Kurt's heart was beating inside Raven's belly. Both explained their chance meeting in Berlin and the following events that twisted their fates together like the weaving of a long, complicated tapestry. Their stories took the better part of an hour to tell. Margali listened with rapt interest and without comment; thankfully, the woman seemed as understanding as Kurt, and she didn't outwardly judge them for any of their actions.

When they finished, the gypsy was quiet, seeming to mull everything over. Eventually she sighed loudly and rubbed her face with both hands.

"Kurt has talked about wanting to meet his real parents since the day he saw  _'Mystique the Hero'_  on television. I always hoped the day would come when you would return to us and give Kurt the answers he needed. But, I was also so  _afraid_. I was so afraid I would lose Kurt on that day. Then I  _did_  lose him when he was kidnapped by those awful men in Potsdam. We too had tracked him to that fight ring in East Berlin, but we arrived too late. I thought I'd lost my son forever. It wasn't until I received Kurt's letter and photos from Caliban that I realized what happened: you'd  _finally_  come back us Mystique, just not in the way I had expected. And - after what happened in the East - I knew it was safer for Kurt to be in America and be with others like him. It is hard on our family not having Kurt here, but because we  _love_  him, we want what is  _best_  for him."

" _You_  know Caliban?" Azazel asked, surprised.

"We are  _gypsies_ ," Margali rolled her eyes, "we know  _everyone_."

"We love Kurt, and we want what's best for him too," Raven assured, steering them back to the point.

"Then it sounds to me like you both need to make decisions about the course of your lives going forward. I will not have Kurt mixed up in anything  _dangerous_ ," she paused to look at Azazel before turning to Raven, "or anything that will put a  _price_  on his head. And, you need to take time and get to know your son. He will have a million questions for you both, but you need to ask him questions too."

"I actually have a question for  _you_ ," Raven ventured. Margali raised a curious eyebrow. "How did you choose the name  _Kurt_?"

"It was my father's name," she responded with a soft smile. "He was a great man with a kind heart. You may remember, a few weeks before you came to us, that I gave birth to a stillborn son. I was going to name him Kurt to honor my father, but your son got that honor instead."

"It is good name," Azazel agreed. "But, I would have chosen Batraz, or Sosruko."

" _What?"_  Raven made a face. "Those are  _terrible!_  What would we have called him for short?  _Bat_? _Ruko_?"

"I  _like_  Ruko," Azazel sulked quietly, making her shake her head.

"Maybe it is good he was  _dead_ , eh?" Margali laughed. "Now, what else would you like to know?"

They took turns asking Margali questions, and she was happy to tell them more about Kurt from a mother's perspective. She also thanked them for saving Kurt and bringing him to Westchester. Eventually though, the gypsy stood and announced that Raven and Azazel would stay in her caravan for the night, and she showed them where the extra bed was for Kurt if he decided to join them. She then excused herself to find accommodations for their friends. As Margali pushed aside the cloth door to exit, she looked at the two mutants one more time.

"No matter what, we are all  _family_  now, so let us make the best of it,  _ja_?"

She left without hugging either of them; there was no catharsis, instant forgiveness, or anything like a storybook happy ending. There simply a mother who loved her son, one who was starting to realize that his birth parents loved him just as much. All three would protect Kurt, and that was the best any of them could ask for.

Once alone, Raven quickly moved next to Azazel on the bed. He looped his arm around her waist, and she leaned against him, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Today's been one for the records, that's for sure," she sighed and closed her eyes. Now that Margali was done with them - for that night, anyways - Raven was starting to realize how tired she really was.

"I am  _nyet_  sure which was more frightening: En Sabah Nur or Margali," he responded. Raven laughed.

"She's  _quite_  the woman. If we couldn't raise Kurt, well... I'm  _glad_  she did."

"You know, I do feel  _much_  better," he said, brushing her hair back and curling one strand around his finger, tugging on it playfully.

"Oh  _really?_ " She asked coyly as she sat up. "How  _much_  better?"

Azazel smiled at her. She knew  _that_ smile; that smile resulted in Kurt just about seventeen years ago. He cupped her face with both hands and brought her mouth to his. As Raven returned his kiss, she wondered how much private time they had left before...

"Hi Mom! Hi Dad!"

Right on cue, Kurt's cheerful voice echoed through the caravan.

* * *

"... and then Kurt  _bit_  him!"

A short while earlier, Scott entertained the small gathering around the main fire with his take on the 'Battle for Egypt.' Kurt rolled his eyes at this part, but then dramatically bit into his loaf of bread, making everyone surrounding him erupted in hysterics. He laughed along as he chewed, happy to be eating and very happy that Selina, his old childhood babysitter, had cooked the night's communal dinner. Her meals were always all kinds of delicious.

The mutant teens were flanked by people who'd begged to hear of their day's adventures. Scott and Kurt took the storytelling lead (in both English and German), recounting their heroics at the military base, and then fighting the ancient evil En Sabah Nur. The stories were so good that the boys didn't even need to embellish them (although they still did, but just a  _little_ ).

Dr. McCoy sat at the edge of the fire alongside Enzo, the Munich Circus's veterinarian, and together the men repaired Warren's injured wing. Ororo held his hands and spoke soothingly as the men plucked all his damaged feathers. After much conferring, Enzo believed that once all of Warren's ruined feathers were fully removed and his skin allowed to heal, then the plumes should grow back healthy and strong, as he'd seen in the Circus's own parrots. Together, he and Dr. McCoy mixed a salve to heal Warren's burned skin. The indigo teen smiled and hoped things worked out well for his new friend. He was just happy that Warren decide to give his team a chance; Warren had even already asked Kurt if he'd be allowed to travel to Westchester (which Uncle Professor assured everyone he planned to rebuild, even better than before). Kurt found that - in spite of their past interactions - he really liked Warren. Once the winged boy dropped his bravado charade, he was kind and funny, and actually a bit on the shy side.  _Plus_ , Kurt mused as used the last of his bread to scraped his bowl clean,  _it will be really nice to have someone to speak German with when I feel homesick_.

Across from Kurt, Jean and Jimaine huddled together, giggling madly as Jean challenged some detail of Scott's story. Kurt was just about insert his own opinion when a hand slid onto his shoulder. He looked up to see Mama Margali's smiling face looming over him.

"How are you doing, my love?" She asked in German, squeezing his shoulder tenderly.

"Much better now that I'm  _home_ , Mama." He grinned and put his hand over hers.

"Here, I have a  _surprise_  for you." She produced a mug and Kurt's eyes lit-up.

" _Apfelsaftschorle!_ " He exclaimed before taking a long sip. The fizzy apple drink was his childhood  _favorite_ , and Mama Margali always made it for him as a special treat.

"It is so good you're back; we've all missed you so very much!" She leaned down and kissed his forehead before tousling his hair. "You and I will sit down later and visit properly, yes? Right now, I must find beds for your friends. Tonight Jimaine and I will stay in Stefan's caravan, and you will stay with your parents in mine."

Kurt sputtered and nearly choked when she casually dropped the words ' _your parents_.' He hadn't told her  _anything_  yet about Raven and Azazel.  _How could she...?_

"You...  _know_?" He asked in shock as he wiped the juice off his chin. "Like  _know_ , know?"

"Since when have you been able to keep a secret from me, little one?" She laughed. Then, her expression grew serious and laid her hand on his cheek. "I know you have so many questions, but they may not be able or ready to give you all the answers in one night. Be gentle with them, Kurt."

Kurt nodded and quickly chugged the rest of his juice. He thrust the mug back to Mama Margali and practically jumped up, running towards her caravan. Not wasting one precious second, he ducked through the cloth entry, calling out a greeting instead of knocking.

This is how he came to be standing in the doorway, eagerly staring at his parents as they now stared back at him. For a few surprised seconds, no one made a sound. Finally, Azazel addressed him.

"Um... hello, son?"

It was all the encouragement Kurt needed. He teleport onto the bed, upsetting the pillows and startling both of them. Azazel winced and pressed a hand against his side.

" _Easy,_ Kurt! Watch out for Zaz's..." Raven frowned, putting her hand on Azazel's shoulder. "... I mean, your  _father's_  ribs, Ok? He's still pretty banged-up."

" _Ja_ , of course, sorry!" Kurt beamed from his end of the bed. Azazel waved dismissively to show that he was alright. Both he and Raven smiled softly at Kurt, making Kurt's own smile grow wider.  _This is so great!_  Here everyone was, together at least, and knowing full well their true family relations, and they could actually  _talk_  about things without the threat of death or some pesky villain getting in the way. Kurt felt like he was going to burst from the excitement. He didn't even try to stop his tail which was practically wagging behind him.

"So...?" Raven raised an eyebrow after another moment of silence passed.

" _Right!_ " Kurt shook his head and laughed, realizing he'd still been staring at them and lost in his own thoughts. "So, can I ask you about things? Like now? Like things about you? And maybe, things about me?"

"What would you like to know?" Azazel offered casually. Kurt adjusted himself to sit cross-legged, and Raven and Azazel settle back into their end of the bed too. Kurt smiled, opened his mouth, and...

 _Huh_ , his smile waned and his tail drooped.  _That's actually a really good question_.

He'd fantasized about this moment for so long - about finally getting to talk to his real parents - that he suddenly realized he wasn't even sure what he wanted to ask them, or where to begin.

"Why didn't you just  _tell_  me?" He finally blurted out, breaking the awkward silence. It didn't come out sounded as graceful as he wanted, but he supposed there was no better place to start than at the beginning.

"You mean in East Berlin?" Raven asked quietly.

" _Ja_ , or after we got to Latvia, or on our trip to America, or after Dad finally showed up at Westchester... why didn't you guys just tell me who you really were? Why did you keep  _lying_?"

"Well, your  _mother_..." Azazel started but paused when Raven quickly turned to him. For a split second, Kurt saw her eyes go wide as if she was scared, but Azazel just gave her a small, lopsided smile, and took hold of her hand before continuing. "Your mother  _and I_  did  _nyet_  know how to tell you. We thought at time we were doing what is best for you, but we were  _wrong_. We see that now, and we are both very sorry we did  _nyet_  tell you the truth right away."

"Ok, but you had like  _fives months_  together at Westchester," Kurt frowned. "Why didn't you tell me then, either? And why did you swear Auntie Clarice and Uncle Charles to keep it a secret too?"

"Who told you  _that?_ " Raven pursed her lips.

"No one! I just... um,  _guessed,_ that's all." He answered quickly, biting his lower lip. He saw Azazel smirk before whispering something to Raven in Russian. He thought he'd heard the man say  _Clarice's_  name.

"It's actually a really long story," his mother sighed.

"Well, we  _have_  time," Kurt held out his hands as he shrugged hopefully. "So...?"

"So you're  _right_ ," Raven agreed. "Let's  _talk_."

In the end, they talked for a long time, and by telling their stories, they answered so many questions Kurt didn't even know he had. They didn't tell him everything, but they promised they'd talk more over the coming weeks and eventually tell him all he wanted to know. Kurt walked into this conversation knowing that both is parents had  _questionable_  pasts, but he wasn't quite prepared for the complexity of their lives: their damaged childhoods, the battle in Cuba, the Brotherhood, the KGB, the story of his birth and abandonment, the violence and bloodshed they'd both seen and caused. He wasn't entirely happy about that last part, but he found he could understand why they felt they had no other options, now that he'd gotten a better picture of how challenging most of life was for both Raven and Azazel.

Kurt learned a lot about himself in the process too. He knew of course that he had his mother's coloring and his father's tail, but certain things like his lopsided smile (Dad) and his love of reading (Mom), his restless spirit (Dad) and his incredible flexibility (Mom, although Dad only snickered when she punched his arm for crediting her for that) all started to fit together. Even his mutation - the ability to teleport (Dad) and blend into shadows (Mom) - suddenly made perfect sense. It seemed like he could pinpoint almost every part of himself as leaning more towards one parent or the other, except for his unique hands and feet and...

"Well, except for the  _fangs_ ," Kurt grinned widely, displaying his teeth. "No one has fangs but  _me_."

" _Nyet_ , you got those from me," Azazel smiled, showing off his...  _perfectly normal teeth?_

"But, you don't have fangs...?" Raven titled her head, clearly confused.

" _Nyet_  anymore," he explained. "Let us just say that my last job had a  _telepath_  a really good  _dental plan._ Also,  _maybe_  I was in bad fight and had a few teeth broken. I  _had_  fangs, anyways." He shrugged and pointed at his mouth. "Still all my real teeth, just the front ones had to be filed down, so now they look  _human_."

"Speaking of fighting," Kurt looked at both of them. "I never did say  _thank you_ , for saving me in East Berlin. Both of you. Thank you, for being there when I need you the  _most_."

"I  _never_  wanted to give you up," Raven responded sadly. "I know Margali was a  _great_  mother, but we missed out on so much. I wish things had been different, I really do."

"There's something I want to show you." Kurt slid off the bed and began rummaging through a nearby storage area. He hoped what he wanted was still in the same spot. Raven and Azazel watched him curiously as he looked around the caravan.  _Now where did she... ah-ah!_  Kurt smiled triumphantly as he pulled a large book out from a drawer.

"What's this?" Raven gestured at the item in Kurt's hands. Not waiting for an invitation, he vanished and reappeared sitting between his parents (although carefully, this time). He placed the book on his lap and opened it. Raven let out a quiet gasp and put her hand over her mouth, and even Azazel's tail went perfectly still.

"Some of the older photos are a bit faded - Mama could only trust certain people to develop photos of her  _blue_   _kid_ , after all - but they're not  _too bad_ ," Kurt smiled and flipped through a few pages. "See, there I am!" Sure enough, there was a small photo of a much younger Kurt dressed as a cowboy for Carnival. Kurt smiled; he'd loved that cowboy outfit, and he wore until it was threadbare. He flipped the next page and really hit the jackpot. There were several photos of him at various ages, some of him playing with Stefan or Jimaine, some with Mama Margali holding him as a baby, and even a photo of Kurt dressed for his first solo trapeze act. He really missed the trapeze; he'd already thought about asking if he could do a private performance just for his friends, for old time's sake.

Neither Raven nor Azazel had uttered a sound since he opened the picture book. Raven was still shell-shocked, her hand over her mouth. Azazel hadn't moved an inch. Kurt frowned and started to wonder if maybe this had been a mistake; maybe it was too much for them, right then. He started to close the album, but Raven seized his wrist to stop him. He looked up at her, and was surprised to see silent tears dripping down her cheeks.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," he whispered, suddenly feeling like he might cry too. "I know no one can give us back the time we lost, but I thought maybe you'd both like to see these photos since you couldn't see me grow up, and maybe, you'd could find a way to love me, but if it's too much..."

"Oh  _Kurt_ ," Raven pulled him to her in a tight embrace. "I've loved you since the moment you opened your eyes."

* * *

Not too long after, Azazel closed the photo album quietly and placed it on the table, careful not to disturb Raven or Kurt. It seemed their day's trials had finally caught up with them; both had fallen into a sound sleep next to him, Kurt with his head on Raven's shoulder and his tail wrapped around her ankle, and Raven with her arms looped gently around him, still hugging Kurt close.

Azazel smiled and watched them for a few minutes, snuggled together and snoring quietly. He supposed he should wake Kurt and direct him to his own bed, but he didn't see the harm in letting the boy stay where he was. There was something rather sweet about it, something that reminded Azazel so much of when Clarice was little and would sometimes cuddle up next to him in the middle of the night. He'd never told her that oftentimes he used to pretend he was asleep when she did that.

He'd really enjoyed looking through Kurt's photo album. It was a wonderful way to learn more about his son, as Kurt had been full of stories for every photo. He'd have to ask Margali if she'd be kind enough to choose one for him and Raven to take with them when they left.

 _We've come a long way since Latvia_ , Azazel thought as he yawned. He drank the vial of sleeping draught Margali left before blowing out bedside lantern. A comfortable darkness descended instantly inside the caravan as he settled down next to his little family. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.


	53. Apart

In the end, Azazel slept for an entire day.

When he finally woke, he experienced that fleeting panic of  _'where the hell am I?'_  before his memories of the last forty-eight hours came rushing back along with a sharp, stabbing pain as he tried to sit up. He groaned and sank back down, pulling the covers over his face.

"Hey, he's  _awake!_ "

Azazel folded down a corner of fabric only to find a  _very_   _chipper_  Kurt perched over him. "We were beginning to  _worry_  about you!"

" _Liebchen_ , step back. Give your father room to  _breathe._ " Margali suddenly appeared, her hand on Kurt's shoulder to gently guide him away.

"...  _Coffee?_ " Azazel mumbled before yawning and draping his arm over his eyes, attempting to block the far too bright sunlight. Margali spoke a few German words and he heard Kurt vanish. The brief quiet in the caravan was soon replaced by dishes clinking against the table, followed by a  _very_  alluring aroma of hot food. Azazel peeked out from under his arm to see Margali laying out a small breakfast.

"How long was I sleeping?" He asked when he eventually sat up (carefully, this time). He stretched, popping his back and cracking his neck; even his tail felt stiff and heavy from slumber.

"Long time," she answered without so much as glancing over. "My sleeping draught is powerful, but I suspect you just needed the rest. Most of your friends slept until very late yesterday, although you slept the longest. How do you feel?"

" _Good_ ," he grunted as he climbed out the bed. He did feel much better - his chest still ached but not as badly as before - although he still didn't think he could teleport far. Certainly not far enough to get back to Westchester, even on a solo trip. Margali gestured at the table as if to say, ' _help yourself_.' She didn't need to do so twice; Azazel happily took a plate and pulled up a chair.

"You snore, you know," she observed, wiping her hands on her apron as he piled food on his plate. " _Loudly,_ too."

" _Da_ , I know," he smirked, "Raven always teased me. I had nose broken when I was younger, and I do  _nyet_  think it healed right on inside."

"She will be in shortly, I suppose; I am sure by now Kurt has announced to  _everyone_  you are awake," the gypsy shook her head. "Anyways, I have things to be doing now, but you take your time. Kurt will return with coffee."

Azazel expressed gratitude as he dug into his breakfast. A few minutes later, the boy appeared clutching several mugs of coffee - one black, one with cream, one with sugar, one with both - and explained that since he didn't know how Azazel liked his coffee, he decided to make several different varieties just in case (why Kurt didn't just  _bring_  cream and sugar with one cup of coffee, Azazel wasn't entirely sure, but his son's eagerness to please made him smile). The red mutant motioned for him to take a seat, and the boy fell into the opposing chair, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands as he watched Azazel. Kurt had already eaten - after all, it was late morning - and he was still  _bursting_  with questions and things he wanted to know. His excited chattering was cute, even if in a slightly annoying way. Azazel tried his best to remain cheerful, but he'd never been what one would call a  _'morning person.'_ Neither was Clarice; the adopted siblings had an unspoken rule ever since she was a teenager about only communicating by pointing and grunting until after at least the second cup of coffee.

 _God I miss her_ , Azazel thought as he chewed and listened to Kurt prattle nonstop. He hoped they could arrange a way to return to America soon; he wouldn't be able to fully relax until he knew Little Sister was indeed alright.

The cloth door suddenly shifted and Raven appeared just behind Kurt. She was silhouetted by a pool of sunlight, but Azazel was pleased to see she was again wearing her natural colors and a simple white dress. Azazel smiled warmly, and she returned his greeting.

"Hi Mom!" Kurt grinned and waved, but Raven balked slightly when she realized he was there. Her body language didn't go unnoticed.

"Kurt, could give your mother and I give us a few moments alone, please?" The boy nodded and obediently disappeared. Azazel then motioned for Raven to take Kurt's vacated seat, but she declined, continuing to stand and looking rather pensive. S _he wants to talk about something_ , he realized as he sipped one of the coffees.  _How did I end up with both a wife and a son who want to talk first thing in the morning?_

" _Yes?_ " He raised an eyebrow and switched to Russian, both because Kurt was gone and it added a little more privacy. It seemed like no one in the camp liked to knock, and he could tell instantly that whatever she wanted to talk about, it was some degree of serious.

"There's something we need to talk about," she answered back in Russian, crossing her arms.

"I can see this. What's going on?"

"Hang on a second," Raven ducked out of the caravan door. Azazel saw her wave to someone before she turned back and stepped into the room proper. She was definitely  _jumpy_ , which was very much unlike her. Azazel frowned and pushed back his plate. Her nervous energy was infections, and he suddenly didn't feel like eating anymore. Just when things couldn't get stranger,  _Moira MacTaggert_  appeared in the caravan doorway.

"When did  _you_  arrive?" He asked, surprised. Last he saw Moira, she was on a horse headed towards a hospital.

" _Very_   _late_  last night, and I didn't get much sleep." Unlike Raven, Moira didn't wait for an invitation; she immediately took the open chair and snatched the closest mug of coffee. "Do you mind if we switch to English? I don't think I have the energy to conjugate Russian  _anything_  right now."

"Of course." Azazel agreed; he could see dark circles under her eyes from across the table. "And the others? Is everyone...?"

"Everyone's  _fine_ , they're just still at the hospital. Peter's being officially discharged this afternoon." Moira took a long sip of coffee. "I came back to update everyone, but Charles wanted to stick around in case anything needs telepathic fixing. Peter's not going to be able to ride back; think you can make a short jump to transport four people a few miles?"

"I can manage that." Azazel nodded before eyeing both women suspiciously. "Now, will you both tell me  _what_ is so important? It cannot be that request for  _taxi service_."

"When you found us at the military base, do you remember that I had a cut on my arm?" Raven extended her left arm, and there was a pale, sky blue line a few inches long on its underneath just above her wrist. Knowing her healing factor, that small scar would be gone soon enough; it was already so faint that Azazel had entirely forgotten about the injury until she called attention to it.

" _Da_ , you used Peter's shirt as bandages."

"Yes, well it wasn't  _just_  a cut," Raven bit her lip, studying his face carefully. "All four of us abducted from Westchester had...  _tracking chips_  implanted in our arms, and..."

"You do  _nyet_  still have...?!" Azazel asked in alarm as he jumped up. The last thing anyone needed was for the military to track the mutants here and put Margali's people in danger.

" _No,_ of course not! Hank cut them out  _immediately,_ and we destroyed them back at the base." Moira answered, waving for him to sit. "That's why we all had cuts on our arms and Peter no longer had a shirt by the time you found us."

"I still  _nyet_  understanding why you  _both_  need to tell me this?" At his words, Raven sighed and nodded to Moira. The agent leaned forward, watching Azazel carefully as she spoke.

"Raven told me that your apprentice Clarice has a scar on her left forearm, right about  _here_." Moira rolled up her sleeve to show off her own small, healing cut in the same spot as Raven's and Clarice's. Azazel frowned; it was a rather  _odd_ coincidence all three women had similar wounds.

"Back in the mid-70s, the CIA used tracking chips to catch targets of high interest," Moira continued. "Basically, the CIA would catch someone shady, knock them out, secretly insert a chip into their arm and presto: they could now track this person anywhere in the world, looking for their real targets. Not the most  _ethical_  move, but the CIA used this tactic successful to catch mobsters, drug lords, and other high-profile criminals. All they had to do was follow the chipped person back to their hideout and  _bingo!_ They'd have their target and a newsworthy bust."

"And...?" Azazel took a deep breath as Moira's words started to sink in. He  _really_  didn't like where this was going.

"And I'm telling you this because I know for a  _fact_  the CIA stole both the tactic and technology from the Russians. More specifically, from the  _KGB_ , who'd been using tracking chips since the late '50s. The Americans didn't even have this technology until  _1971_."

Azazel's eyes darted from Moira to Raven. Her golden eyes were brimming with tears, but she gestured for Moira to continue. The agent spoke slowly, explaining everything in painful detail. At first Azazel frowned - she had to be  _mistaken_ , he couldn't believe this was true - but he knew Moira had no reason to lie to him, and he no longer distrusted her. By the time she finished speaking, all the dominoes fell neatly into place.

A numb rage began creeping over him, and the breakfast he'd eaten sat heavy in his stomach. Azazel felt like he was going to be sick.

"It was all a  _set-up_ , Zaz." Raven spoke quietly, wiping her eyes as she voiced his worst fears. "Don't you see?  _I_  was the target. Those KGB  _assholes_  chipped Clarice and planted her for us to find.  _That's_  why we got that shitty assignment in Kyzyl that was way too easy for you. They sold out our cell trying to kill me, but when I escaped, they then  _blamed_  me for the entire raid. They made those false files claiming I was an American spy and they made sure you saw them. They made those fake autopsy photos not to protect you, but to stop me from going back for you."

Azazel nodded but remained silent, looking down at his hands on the table. His bosses  _never_  liked Raven - not from day one - and they'd never hid the fact they only  _tolerated_  her because Azazel was one of their best. He'd made a case repeatedly for them to accept her as his partner, but they labeled Raven a liability and a dangerous distraction. He knew he'd given the KGB a pretty big  _'fuck you'_  by marrying Raven without their permission, but he thought he'd escaped the worst of their displeasure by getting stuck with a full year's worth of shitty assignments. It didn't matter to him how boring his work was as long as Raven was by his side.

 _And now..._  he looked again at Raven - his beautiful, lovely  _wife_  - and she was openly crying. All these years he had blamed her for the '67 raid, and now he knew he'd been played a fool. She hadn't betray him; the men and women who he'd worked for most of his life had. Never in his wildest dreams did he think the KGB would punish him for insubordination by turning him against his own family. Moira and Raven's revelation, along with everything he knew from the last seven months, all led to one conclusion:

Azazel would make every one of those monsters who took away his family pay with their lives.

* * *

" _Good news!_ " The happiness in Kurt's voice practically stung Raven's ears. "Mama said I can do a special perform... um,  _what_ are you doing?"

She turned to see Kurt halfway though the caravan door, frozen in mid-step with complete confusion etched on his face. Moira left a few minutes ago and Raven had spent most of her time since begging Azazel to  _not_  teleport immediately to the East and go on a killing spree. So far he'd turned a deaf ear to her pleas and continued to arm himself with the few weapons he had remaining. Eventually Raven restored to physically hanging onto him to prevent him from leaving (there was no way he'd take her on his self-appointed vengeance mission). At present, Azazel was trying to pry her fingers off his arm, but he too paused when Kurt appeared. The boy gaped at his father, who anyone could see, was clearly getting ready to do some violence.

"Kurt,  _sweetheart_..." Raven began, struggling to maintain her grip, "now's not really a  _good_   _time_..." Kurt ignored her and strode into the caravan.

" _Nein_ , what's going on?" He demanded. He then pointed at the dagger strapped to Azazel's arm. "Why are you wearing your weapons? You're  _safe_  here. You don't  _need_  them."

"I will need them where I am  _going_ ," Azazel growled as he finally twisted free from Raven's grasp. Undeterred, she quickly grabbed his tail (much to his annoyance).

" _What?_  Where are you going?" Kurt frowned. "If you're going to pick up Peter and the others at the hospital, you won't need your swords to..."

 _"Nyet_ now _, Kurt!"_  Azazel barked, and the teen shrank back.

"Mom, what's going on? Kurt's voice was little more than a frightened whisper, and it broke Raven's heart. She dropped Azazel's tail and went to her son, putting her arms around his shoulders. Azazel sighed in loud frustration and put his hand on his forehead, rubbing it vigorously. She knew he hadn't meant his words to be so harsh. Kurt present or not, she had to try to appeal once again to Azazel's sensibility.

"Zaz,  _listen_  to me: you know you can't just kill several high-ranking KGB bosses without  _serious repercussions_..."

" _What?!_ " Kurt practically yelled, his golden eyes widening in panic. "You're going to...  _what?!_ "

"Son, you would  _nyet_  understand..." Azazel tried to dismiss but Kurt held his ground.

" _Try me!_ " He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, almost glaring at Azazel in challenge. Raven took the initiative and gave Kurt a very brief version of what she and Moira had just explained to Azazel. When she finished, Kurt frowned.

"You  _promised_ that part of your life was over," he said quietly. "Last night, you  _promised_  we'd all go back to Westchester and be a  _family_."

"We  _will;_ I am  _nyet_  breaking that promise. This is  _different_ ," Azazel started, "after this, we can be family and..."

" _How_  is this different?" He demanded. "Killing people  _breaks_  your promise!"

"These people took  _your mother_  away from  _me!_ " Azazel snarled angrily.

"And they took  _you and mom_ away from  _me_!" Kurt shot back just as fiercely. "If anyone has a right to be angry and want revenge, it's  _me!_ "

The red mutant took a step back, caught off guard by Kurt's raw conviction and anger. Raven had to admit she too was  _impressed_ ; not many people could stand up so unflinchingly to Azazel. Kurt was  _right_  too; they'd all been hurt by the KGB's betrayal, but arguably none more so than him. Azazel lost Raven but hadn't known he'd lost a child too; Raven lost Azazel but chose to give up their son; meanwhile, Kurt had lost  _both_  of them without having a say in the matter at all.

"If you  _really_  mean it - if you  _really meant_  what you said last night about being a  _family_  - then it starts  _here_  and it starts  _now_ ," Kurt stated firmly. Raven could see tears building in his eyes. "I know you are angry, but killing those people is  _not_  the answer. It's not going to give any of us back the time we lost. All it's going to do is put our family in danger.  _Please_ , Dad?"

Azazel took a deep breath and stared hard at Kurt. After a long moment, he scowled and looked away. He unbelted his dagger and threw it roughly to the floor.

"Thanks, Da..." Kurt smiled and reached out but Azazel vanished before he could finish. The indigo teen dropped his hand to his side.

"That's the closest to an apology you're gonna get," Raven gave Kurt's shoulder a gentle squeeze. He nodded, but when he looked back, she saw a few tears had already escaped. She pulled Kurt into her arms.

" _What_  is all this yelling...?" Margali appeared in the doorway looking rather vexed, but her displeasure crumbled as soon as she saw Kurt crying. "Oh,  _Leibechen!_ " She strode forward, quickly folding her arms around both Kurt and Raven. "It is  _alright_. Your mamas are here."

* * *

"Ah,  _there_ you are!"

Azazel frowned when he heard Margali's voice. He was sure he'd be  _alone_  here; he had been alone for the better part of two hours already. He looked down - about  _10 meters_  down - to find her staring up at him with her hands on her hips.

"I really should have known," the gypsy called out as she hoisted herself onto the tree's lower branches. She began to climb towards his perch with admirable speed and accuracy. "Kurt always hid in trees a few kilometers from camp whenever he was in trouble. Like  _son_ , like  _father_."

"I am  _nyet_  in  _trouble_ ," Azazel clarified as he watched her scale the tree. When Margali finally reached him, he extended a hand to help her onto the thick branch upon which he sat.

"I will admit that I am  _impressed_ ," he conceded as he curled his tail back around the branch to steady his position. It only took her a few minutes to climb to him, even wearing a dress.

"Impressed by what?" Margali asked as she folded her skirt underneath her legs. "That I climbed a tree or that I found you?"

" _Both,_ actually."

"Well, the climbing part was  _easy_ ," she smirked, "you do not raise  _two boys_  and live in a  _circus_  without learning a few tricks. And, as far as finding you, like I said: whenever Kurt was missing, all I had to do was look  _up._ "

They sat side-by-side for a few moments before Margali cleared her throat.

"So, are you going to tell me what you are hiding from, or must I drag it out of you?"

"How much do you already know?" Azazel sighed and glanced over.

"I know some things from Mystique and Kurt," she admitted, "and of course,  _half_  the camp heard you three yelling."

"I am so  _stupid_ ," Azazel admitted a short while later, after filling her in on his family's little fight.

"Most men are," Margali smiled patted his shoulder. "You really should not take it so  _personally_."

Her words at least got a small chuckle out of him. It felt good to laugh, after all the hurt and anger of his morning.

"You know," Margali soothed her skirt as she spoke, "when Mystique left Kurt, I was so angry at her for such a long time. How could a mother abandoned her child, her own flesh-and-blood, to a complete stranger? And I  _was_  a stranger. She spent only three days here before leaving Kurt, and did not really know me. I could have thrown her baby down a well for all she knew. But, sometimes the best things come from circumstances we do not anticipate. Lucky for all of us, I loved Kurt and I wanted to keep him, and my life has been better for it." She looked over at Azazel. "You have a little girl, Clarice? You mentioned her last night."

" _Nyet_  my little girl; Clarice is Little Sister. And, she is now  _twenty-four_ ," he smiled, " _nyet_  so little anymore."

"Well, you would not have Clarice in your life if it had not been for that unfortunate situation in 1967. Yes, your employers unfairly took away your wife and a son who you did not know existed  _but_ , they unknowingly gave you a sister. So, the way I see it, it is not  _all_  bad, even if that is how it feels right now. My people have a saying,  _'holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else, but you are the one who gets burned.'_ " Margali patted his knee. "Azazel, you have something not many people get: a  _choice_. Choose to let of of this anger at those who have wronged you, and instead, be  _happy_  with your family. Perhaps that is the best revenge, since they wanted to take them away from you to begin with."

Azazel thought about her words. It was true that he wouldn't have Clarice if he and Raven hadn't been set-up; he'd never really thought about it that way. Yes he lost one family member but gained another, even if unintentional. And, as Raven had pointed out, killing several high-ranking KGB bosses wouldn't exactly go  _unnoticed_. He could probably kill them all easily enough, but then Azazel be hunted for the rest of his life. He wouldn't be able settle down in Westchester, and if the surviving KGB located Raven or Clarice or found out about Kurt, it would put their lives at risk. The KGB had taken away his family, but doing the  _right thing_  meant turning the other cheek and  _not_  seeking retribution for this grievous wrong.

For someone who's career was built on revenge for hire, it all just seemed so momentously  _unfair_.

"Give me your hand," Margali requested, holding out her own.

"Why?" He asked skeptically.

"Because I am going to read your palm." She cocked her head slightly and smiled. "Did Kurt not tell you? I am ' _Margali Szardos, Clairvoyant Extraordinaire'!"_

He looked at her blankly as he tried to puzzle out what the word  _'clairvoyant'_ meant.

"I am a  _fortune teller_ ," she rolled her eyes, "and a pretty damn good one, too. Now, give me your hand."

"I do  _nyet_  believe in that stuff," Azazel said but held out his hand to be polite. The woman did climb a tree for him, after all.

" _Ja_ , well seventeen years ago I did not believe in  _blue women_ or  _vanishing men_ ," Margali snickered, "but here we are, in a tree."

Azazel smiled and shook his head as she took his hand in her own, spreading his fingers apart and gently tracing the lines across his palm.

"That's  _interesting_ ," she surmised after a few seconds.

"What?" Azazel pursed his lips and looked down at his hand. He didn't see anything unusual; just his normal deep red skin and callouses. She looked up, her green eyes glittering.

"Here, on your Heart Line," she traced the faint curving line that lead up to his middle finger. "It tells me you've faced much  _hardship_..."

"Oh,  _really_?" Azazel smirked as he waved his free hand round his face. "You  _think_  so?"

"Maybe if you  _shaved_  you would not look so much like the  _devil_. Have you ever considered this?"

"Maybe I do  _nyet_  like shape of my chin so much," he admitted almost sheepishly as he looked away.

" _Naja_ , let me continue." She turned back to his palm. "Ah, here! On your Fate Line," she leaned in close, seeming to measure the line with her finger. "I see  _death_  in your future..."

" _Fantastika_ ," he growled quietly and yanked his hand away. Margali snatched it as he withdrew it, slapping his knuckles lightly.

"Stop it.  _'Death'_  only means  _change_ , not necessarily  _physical_  death. There is much change on the horizon for you, and you are only now starting to experience it."

"I do  _nyet_  need fortune read to tell me that," Azazel rolled his eyes. "You know this already from our talk last night."

"Ok  _Herr Smartypants,_ " Margali teased, "how about this, then? On your Life Line, I see... goats and deep blue mountain skies. I can see a woman, she's dancing, and wearing in a colorful skirt..." She paused, frowning slightly. "I see you as a young child, taken from this woman's arms. There are chains around your neck. You are hurt, and crying for her. She whispers something, like a name...  _Ivarr_?"

Azazel got really quiet really fast after that. When Margali finished her reading, the two sat in silence for a long time.

"I am very sorry those things happened to you," she said quietly, wiping a tear from her eye. "No child should be taken from their family like that." Azazel reached out and put his hand over hers.

"I am glad Kurt found his way to you," he acknowledged. "If we could  _nyet_  have him, I am glad you could. You gave him a good life. I can  _nyet_  thank you enough for this."

"Now it is your turn take over," Margali smiled and squeezed his hand. "Come back with me and let us go talk to our son."

* * *

Kurt tugged hard on the sequined fabric of his shirt. It felt shorter than he remembered; he must have grown since he last wore this particular show costume. He stood backstage, waiting for the cue. He peeled back the thick stage curtain by a few inches to secretly peek into the main arena. Hans and Franz - the circus's twin jugglers - were in full swing, spinning fiery batons and eliciting cheers from the rather large crowd. The tent's lights somehow seemed brighter than Kurt remembered, and the noise much louder. His tail twitched behind him, and he flexed his toes; he tugged on his collar with trembling fingers and counted backwards from ten for the thousandth time.

In short, he was a nervous wreck.

Kurt couldn't remember the last time he'd been  _this_  nervous before a show. He'd been performing in front of audiences since he was ten as both an acrobat and trapeze artist. He'd always been so excited to preform, but now... he scanned the crowd again, looking for familiar faces, when suddenly, something brushed against his arm. Instinctively, Kurt yelped and vanished. He appeared upside down on the ceiling, hanging onto a tent pole by his tail.

"Kurt, it's just  _me_ ," Jimaine giggled in German, her hand covering her mouth. Kurt looked up ( _or, down? I really need to figure these directions out)_  at his adoptive sister. She wore a matching outfit to his and her blue eyes sparkled in mirth at his reaction. "Don't tell me you're  _scared_? We've done this act a  _million_  times!"

"Yeah, I know but this is the first time I'm preforming for my  _friends,_ " Kurt answered back in their native tongue as he appeared next to Jimaine and thumbed towards the audience. Somewhere in the crowd sat Scott, Jean, Ororo, Ms. MacTaggert and his mother (in her pretty blonde disguise, of course). He wasn't sure if Warren or Dr. McCoy found a way watch without being seen, and he hadn't seen his father since their argument earlier that day. Kurt was bummed that Azazel would miss his show. Everyone was here really, except for...

"Looking for your  _girlfriend?_ " Stefan appeared suddenly from around the corner, startling both Kurt and Jimaine (although this time, at least Kurt didn't teleport). He sang the word  _'girlfriend'_  while making kissing faces and snickering. "She's a real  _fox_ , Kurty Boy. Nice work!"

 _"What?!"_  The indigo teen was now truly alarmed. "What are you talking about? When did you even get here?"

"Just a little while ago. We dropped off Peter and Mr. Lensherr back at camp - that kid's still too doped up to keep his mouth shut during the show - but once I told Wanda you were guest preforming, there was  _no way_  she was staying behind. So, we brought her and Mr. Xavier to watch the show. Front row seats and all!"

" _Oh my God._ " Kurt sat down, putting his head in his hands. Performing in front of Wanda brought him to a whole new level of nervous.  _What if I miss my cue? Or the pants of my costume rip? Or I drop Jimaine?_

"How did you all get here so fast?" Jimaine arched her eyebrow at Stefan.

"Mr. Azazel picked everyone up before coming here," he said casually as he shrugged off his shirt and quickly donned his show apparel. Stefan had long been the announcer for Kurt and Jimaine's trapeze act.

"Wait, _my dad's_  here?" Kurt's eyes lit up excitedly. He didn't think Azazel would come, not after earlier. Stefan smiled warmly and draped his arm around Kurt's shoulders, steering him towards the secret slit in the curtain.

"Look, see that area up top blocked by the black screen?" Stefan pointed to a concealed space near the top of the bleachers. "Mama and a few of the guys rigged it before the show so Mr. McCoy, Mr. Azazel, and Warren could appear inside it and watch the show without being seen."

"It's still so  _crazy_  you found both your birth parents!" Jimaine shook her head and laughed. "You know, Mama suggested we all spend time together before you leave so we can get to know one other, since we're all  _family_  now."

Kurt stared at the black screen concealing his family and friends, a smile growing on his face as he thought about what his adopted sister just said. He never dreamed in a million years that he'd actually find his birth parents, let alone that he'd find an extended family in his aunt and uncle. And now, his adopted family was not only supportive of this, but they wanted to be a part of his biological family's lives as well as his. All of a sudden, Kurt felt so loved that he wanted to cry.

"Kurt, you  _got_  this," Jimaine patted his back affectionately. He turned and smiled at her, letting the curtain fall back into place. Then he felt another hand on his shoulder.

"And we got  _you_ , little brother," Stefan chimed in, his green eyes smiling. "Isn't that what families for? Now come on; it's  _showtime!_ "

In the end, it was one of Kurt and Jimaine's best performances, and they even got a standing ovation.


	54. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Just a quick note thanking everyone for reading “Monsters,” and a special thank you to those who commented or gave kudos. It means a lot to me! If you like my writing, please take a moment and check out my newest story “Allegiance.” It’s an X-Men AU in which mutants live in a Game of Thrones style universe (but it’s not a crossover). It’s very different from “Monsters” and it does feature some slash, but I’m really excited to write and share it. Also, we've got about 5 more chapters of "Monsters" after today before the story wraps. Happy reading all!

"I really do  _nyet_  like flying," Azazel complained as he crossed his arms and slumped back in his seat.

"Well it's not possible for you to teleport back, so  _deal_  with it," Raven playfully razzed. She glanced over from her book. "At least Caliban got us a  _nice_  plane this time; we could be trapped in the cargo hold of a  _postal carrier_."

At the words  _'postal carrier,'_ Kurt groaned quietly. Azazel looked across the way and again counted his blessings that he didn't feel a fraction as ill as his son. The poor boy's cheeks were positively  _veridian_ , and sweat beaded across his forehead. Wanda sat next to him, rubbing his back and whispering soothingly as she encouraged him to drink some ginger ale. The red mutant hoped for Kurt's sake that his second dose of medication would kick in soon. Azazel did find it rather  _ironic_  that the two mutants whose abilities theoretically allowed them to travel anywhere in the world both experienced terrible motion sickness when forced to use  _normal_  modes of transportation.

Azazel leaned back and listened to the soft hum of the engines. True, their current mode of transportation was more in line with something Emma Frost would have liked rather than the military plane they'd hijacked a week earlier, but no matter how luxurious, the turbulence still made him feel queasy. He adjusted the bandages under his shirt, careful to avoid directly touching his broken bones. He was healing well thanks to Margali's apt care, but he was still in for a few more uncomfortable weeks and limited teleportation. He sighed and glanced around at his fellow passengers. For someone who rarely flew, it didn't escape his amusement that it was the second time in less than one week he found himself strapped into an airplane seat. Kurt and Wanda sat across the way while Charles and Mag... -  _Erik, just Erik now,_  Azazel reminded himself - sat at the front of the plane, wholly engrossed in a game of chess (Azazel had no idea  _where_  or  _how_  they'd gotten a chess board before take off). The younger mutants - Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Warren - were spread throughout the cabin chatting quietly, occasionally coming together to play cards or some imagination game to stave off the boredom of the long flight. Raven was sprawled out across a few seats with her nose buried in a book while Hank and Moira were in the cockpit, steering the plane towards Westchester, and home.

 _Home_ , he mused with a small curl of his lip. He'd approached Charles earlier to discuss the feasibility of he and Clarice staying at the school once it as rebuilt, and the telepath had surprised him by immediately offering Azazel a  _permanent_  teaching position. Charles explained that after the attack in Cerebro and the ensuing battle in Cairo, he realized his school needed a serious program to train students how to fight using their mutations. He couldn't think of two more perfect instructors for a fighting class than the now  _ex-KGB_  operatives.  _And of course_ , Charles had added with a smile,  _teaching positions at the school include full room and board_. Azazel accepted Charles's offer with gratitude; he was sure Clarice would find it just as appealing, even if it was going to feel strange to remain in one place when they'd moved so frequently their entire lives.

 _I'm going to be a real teacher_ , Azazel thought proudly. He briefly wondered if he'd get his own office and desk at the school. He'd never had or needed had such things; they seemed so  _normal_  that they had a novelty appeal. Part of him secretly hoped he did get an office.

His thoughts then drifted back to his recent conversation with Margali. Azazel still wasn't sure what he and Clarice would do yet to sever their Eastern ties so they could live safely in West. Working for the KGB wasn't exactly something either of them could  _retire_  or walk away from; if they left, they'd be tracked down as deserters, and the repercussions would be...  _well, best not to imagine the scenarios_ , Azazel frowned. The only positive aspect from the aftermath of En Sabah Nur's worldwide destruction was that in the chaos and confusion, he and Clarice could disappear for a while without raising their bosses' suspicion, but this meant weeks or a few months at most. Azazel still felt cheated that he couldn't exact revenge on the people who'd wronged him, but he knew in his heart that killing the men and women who took away Raven would only cause serious problems. He couldn't risk putting his family or the school in danger. He'd think of something; he just needed a little more time.

Azazel glanced down at his watch before looking towards the rear of the plane. Raven caught his eye and gave him an  _'I know what you're thinking'_  look. He nodded as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stood. They still had some time left in their journey home, but before they reached Westchester, there was something Azazel had to do.

* * *

 _Why did she have to bring up the postal plane?_  Kurt moaned internally. He squeezed his eyes shut as memories of his very bumpy escape from Amsterdam to Boston came rushing back, and he fought hard to not throw-up his breakfast. He really didn't know why the medication Dr. McCoy administered wasn't working this time, and he sure hoped the second dose did the trick. He couldn't wait to start the teleportation lessons Azazel promised when they got back. Kurt really hoped that one day he'd just be able to just teleport where he needed to be and avoid this whole flying business in the future.

They'd stayed with the Munich Circus for four days. It was just long enough for Ms. MacTaggert and Raven to arrange transportation home via Mr. Caliban's courier services. Kurt hadn't gone to Mr. Caliban's this time (he'd asked to go - Kurt liked Mr. Caliban - but Raven said the journey there was too dangerous), but he did overhear Ms. MacTaggert tell Uncle Professor that Mr. Caliban was so pleased with their heroics in Egypt that he arranged for a luxury jet free of charge. Kurt knew his uncle could have afforded whatever mode of transport the man found, but it seemed like a big deal to all the adults that Mr. Caliban refused payment for his services. Kurt just thought it was really nice of him.

On their last full day at camp, Mama Margali took Kurt, Jimaine, Stefan, Raven and Azazel away on a picnic for a few hours. It was really great to spend time together, and Kurt was really happy his adopted siblings got along with his parents. Jimaine was a bit starstruck by  _Mystique the Hero_ , and Azazel taught Stefan a few knife throwing tricks he could use in his own circus act. Kurt was beyond thrilled that all three of his parents not only seemed to get along, but actually  _liked_  one another. He went from having one small adopted family to one great big mixed family, and he finally felt like he had a place in this world. It was a  _good_  feeling.

Telling his friends about Raven and Azazel being his parents went surprisingly smoother than he anticipated. Jean smiled shyly and told him she'd secretly known for a while, since she couldn't always control reading strongly projected thoughts and emotions. Scott thought it was pretty cool and of course, Wanda said she'd suspected something was up by the strange way both mutants acted around Kurt. Of everyone he told, Peter was the only one pretty much  _blown away_  by the news; for some odd reason, the speedster seemed to think that Azazel and Uncle Professor were  _brothers._  It took Peter a few minutes to figure out all the relationships, but in the end, he was thrilled for Kurt and happy that - if he and Clarice ever got married - then Kurt would be the coolest  _nephew-in-law_  ever.

The plane lurched slightly to the left, interrupting Kurt's reminiscing. He hiccuped put his hands over his stomach as it flip-flopped again. Wanda put her hands on his shoulders and gently guided Kurt until he was laying down with his head on a pillow in her lap. He did feel much better laying down that sitting up, and Wanda's kindness was really helpful.

"Hey Wanda?" He mumbled.

"Yes Kurt?" She stroked his hair gently.

"I don't think we're going to have prom this year, with the school being blown up and all," he sighed. Just a day before the school exploded, he'd officially asked Wanda to be his prom date. He'd really been looking forward to dressing up and dancing with her.

"No, I don't think that's going to happen," she laughed quietly.

"I'd still like to take you out when we get home, on a  _fancy_  date," he blinked and looked up at her. "Just you and me, all dressed up, dinner and dancing."

"I'd  _really_  like that," she smiled warmly, her dark red hair falling in a halo around her face as she looked down at him. The necklace he'd given her sparkled and hung from like a teardrop from her neck. Kurt smiled just before the plane lurched again.

For many, many reasons, he really couldn't wait to land.

* * *

"What's shakin' eggs'n'bacon?" Peter cheerfully greeted. He pulled off his headphones and waved as Azazel and Raven entered the rear of the plane.

"Hi Peter," Raven returned his greeting. She took a took a seat nearby, and Azazel sat next to her. The silver-haired youth grinned, obviously happy for any company. After falling several times while trying to move around the cabin with his crutches, both Erik and Wanda decided to strap Peter into the rear of the plane - with metal - for his own good. This way he could rest his cast on a footstool and avoid hurting himself (or someone else) accidentally. Raven could tell instantly that in spite of his smile, Peter's fidgeting hands and bouncing foot showed it was driving him crazy to be  _stuck_ in one spot. She also knew the minute Azazel stood and started walking towards the back of the plane that he was going to see Peter. She dropped her book and tagged along to ensure that whatever happened, it remained civil. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad; this cast itches like crazy though," Peter brushed back is hair. His fingers trailed down to a small bump under the front of his shirt. Raven noticed a thin silver chain around his neck, twisting in the light as he started to play with whatever was at its end. "Hey, do either of you know how much longer's this flight? I'm going  _bonkers_ trapped in this tube."

"You were  _fine_  on flight to Egypt," she observed with a friendly smirk.

"Yeah but that was  _different_ ," he laughed, "because we were on our way to  _save the world!_  Plus, there was wicked danger on the ground, so I wasn't exactly in a rush to land. Now, we're just going home, so yeah, I can't wait to get off this ride."

"Clarice will be there, when we land," Azazel noted, watching Peter's reaction carefully.

"I know man," a dreamy look came over his face, "that's pretty much the only thing getting me through this long haul flight. I can't wait to see her!"

"The feeling is  _mutual_ ," Azazel nodded.

"What is that?" Raven interrupted and motioned with her chin to whatever it was Peter was fingering beneath his shirt.

"What,  _this?_ " The speedster tugged on the chain and a cylindrical violet stone popped out. "It's a..."

"...  _Teleportation crystal?_ " Azazel finished his sentence, sounding slightly surprised. " _She_  gave you a crystal?"

"Who gave you a crystal?" Raven frowned, completely lost. She didn't remember Peter having a necklace at the military base.

"Clarice gave it to me, and I put it on one of Wanda's old chains," Peter shrugged, answering Raven's question. "I had it in my pocket until we put on our flight suits, so you probably never saw it. Anyways, she gave it to me the night before the school blew up. We were in my bedroom, and..." Raven felt Azazel tense next to her and Peter stopped, seeming to suddenly rethink his statement. He held up his hands as if caught stealing and blushed deeply. " _Whoa!_  We were just  _talking_ , I swear! She  _doesn't_... I  _wouldn't_... We don't even hold hands if she's not feeling it, and we haven't yet... and I wouldn't without expressed _written_ consent, and..." Peter burned a deeper red and Azazel shook his head and held up a hand to silence him from divulging anything Raven was sure Azazel rather  _not_  hear. She smiled anyways; something about Peter's unexpected bashfulness was surprisingly sweet.

"She really likes you, if she gave you that." Azazel then pulled out a small purple crystal from his own pocket and held it up for Peter to see. He smiled proudly. "I have carried this since she was little, when she first learned she could pull crystals to teleport."

"Mine's bigger," Peter observed innocently, holding his crystal up to compare.

" _That's what she said!_ " Scott's voice echoed, causing Azazel to scowl sharply towards the plane's main cabin. Several giggling teenage faces peered back at them from over the seats.  _Little evesdroppers_ , Raven thought shaking her head. Privacy on a small plane was apparently not a guarantee.

"It is  _nyet_  about  _size_ , it is about you  _use_  it." Azazel frowned before muttering  _idiots_  under his breath. He slipped his crystal back in his pocket.

"It's a little about the size too," Raven added quietly. Both Peter and Azazel looked at her with raised eyebrows, but she merely shrugged. "What? It's  _true_."

" _That's what_...  _ouch!_ " Scott was muffled this time by Jean punching his arm, eliciting several laughs from the others. Raven sighed loudly as she stood, quickly pulling closed the curtains to block off their end of the plane.

 _Charles?_  She closed her eyes and concentrated hard to grab her brother's attention.

 _No worries Raven; I'm on it,_  her brother's voice echoed in her mind. She opened her eyes and nodded for Azazel to continue. Charles would make sure there was a telepathic barrier giving the three some actual privacy.

"Ok, pause: what's  _really_  going on?" Peter crossed his arms and directed his question at Azazel. "Because, you  _never_  talk to me, but suddenly here you are talking to me, and about  _Clarice_ of all topics, which up until this point, you've only ever  _glared_  at me about. I'm not  _dumb_ , dude. I know you don't like me, and I know you don't like that I'm dating your sister, but honestly I _not_ a bad guy, I can get references who aren't just my mom, and I..."

"You are correct; I have  _nyet_  been fair to you," Azazel interrupted, tapping his fingers together pensively. "Perhaps I owe you  _apology_ , for my poor behavior?"

Raven cocked her head as she turned to looked at her husband. He never offered apologies that quickly, not even to her. Even Peter pursed his lips, appearing taken aback by Azazel's sudden shift in tone.

"Um... Ok, now this feels like a  _trap_." Azazel chuckled at the speedster's assessment.

"Is  _nyet_  trap. Peter, I...  _apologize_  for not giving you chance. You have shown you are a good person, and you make Clarice very happy, and I want her to be happy." Azazel gave him a lopsided smile. "I am going to tell you a story now, and I need you to listen very carefully,  _da?_ "

"Alright, sure!" Peter still looked a bit dumbfounded as he readily agreed.

With that, Azazel leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and proceeded to tell Peter the same story he'd told Raven the night of their wedding. Raven smiled, and she could almost picture that night so long ago: the dusky cityscape fading into night, the haze of the Spanish wine, the promise of so many good things to come. She knew it meant a lot for Azazel to share such a private moment with Peter. For his part, the speedster listened patiently while Azazel spoke, and he didn't once interrupt.  _There's hope for Peter and Azazel to be friends yet_ , Raven thought.

When the red mutant finished, he sat back. Peter remained quiet for a few minutes longer, seeming to think about Azazel's words. Finally, he broke his silence.

"Ok," the speedster held up his hands, "I'm not sure if you're  _hitting_  on me, but I feel like I should tell you that while I'm totally  _flattered_ and maybe even a little  _curious_ , I'm  _not_  into dudes, so...?"

Azazel stared at Peter for a moment without making a sound. He then dropped his head into his hands, and rubbed his face vigorously. Raven could see a vein throbbing in his neck.

"I'm going to  _fucking_  kill him," he whispered in Russian, reaching for one of his short swords.

" _Wait!_ " She quickly seized Azazel's arm when he started to stand and pulled him back down. Turning towards Peter, Raven fought hard to stifle her laughter.

"Peter, I think what Azazel wants to know is: what are you  _intentions_  towards Clarice?"

"Oh my God, are you  _kidding?_  I  _love_ her!" Peter gushed, and his entire face lit up. "I love her, and I want to marry her, and I want to have a ton of kids with her, and I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy she chose me!"

Azazel looked him over for a few seconds before nodding, almost in resignation.

"You have my permission to court her," he said, and then extended his hand for Peter to shake.

"No offense," Peter furrowed his brow as he took Azazel's hand, "but I'm pretty sure only only Clarice can give permiss..." Behind Azazel, Raven quickly made an axe motion across her neck. Thankfully for once, Peter noticed and took the hint. He smiled as he shook Azazel's hand firmly.

"Thanks Azazel. I really appreciate it."

"Westchester on the radar!" Hank's voice crackled over the cabin's intercom.

" _'Ladies and gentlemen, at this time the captain asks for all passengers to please return to their seats and make sure all trays are in their full upright, locked positions.'_ " Moira's voiced echoed with a giggle. Clearly, she and Hank were having fun with the intercom system. Both Raven and Azazel belted into their seats across Peter. Raven leaned over and pulled back the privacy curtain, watching the teens buckle in as well. For a brief second, she caught Charles's eye. He smiled warmly and she returned the gesture.

For ten years she had stayed away from Westchester; now for the second time that year she was coming home. Only this time, Raven was glad for it.


	55. Lingua Franca

_**Safe Haven - Near Grounds of the Former Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, New York** _

" _Blink!_ "

Clarice's eyes darted to the doorway as James screamed her code name. Seconds later, the Native American youth burst into the main cabin, running so fast that he careened around the corner and nearly lost his footing.

"Warpath!  _Slow down!_ " She jumped up from her cot, holding both hands out in a halting gesture. James came to a stop and doubled over with his hands on his knees. "What's going on?"

"I  _heard_... it sounds  _like_..." James panted hard. When he finally caught his breath and glanced up, the fear was evident in his dark eyes. "I heard a  _plane_ , and it's headed  _this_  way!"

"Danielle get the kids inside,  _now!_ " Clarice commanded as she snatched her katana from where it rested against the wall. Danielle jumped into action and began herding the students inside, making sure the littlest ones had both their partner and emergency supplies pack just in case. Clarice ran outside flanked by James and Lucas. The boon of James's super-sensitive hearing meant they still had a few moments yet before they were in any real danger. Clarice began creating crystals just as Jubilee joined them and started charging up Lucas. She glanced behind her and saw Alex in the main cabin's doorway, guarding the students inside. Broken arm or not, his mutation would be extremely useful if they were attacked. He'd at least be able to give the kids a chance to escape.

She turned back, scanning the horizon and feeling the cold rush of adrenaline tingle down her spine. Clarice had no idea what to expect, so they had to brace themselves for anything.

It had been four days days since the mysterious world-wide attacks stopped, but they still hadn't heard word from their missing comrades. While she kept up a stoic facade, inside Clarice was sick with worry. Azazel  _never_  left her in limbo this long after completing a mission; he always checked-in or left a message at one of their safe houses. She knew he could easily teleport across the globe in a single jump, and the fact that he hadn't yet made an appearance in Westchester could only mean that he was hurt... or  _worse_. Clarice wouldn't permit herself to think about the latter; instead she prayed there was a  _damn good_  reason for Azazel leaving her in the lurch. The stress of not knowing her comrades' fates stirred up nightmares of Tuan's death. Even though Danielle found Thorazine in the medical supplies ( _seriously, what didn't this school have?_ ), Clarice refused to take it. She needed her wits about her to protect the students, even if that meant suffering through the terrors of her former life.

" _There!_ " James cried out, pointing skyward. Clarice shielded her eyes and looked up.

"I see it too!" Lucas added, and sure enough, a little black dot appeared just above the treeline. It was to far away to hear the engines, but it did seem to be headed towards them.

"It looks more civilian than military," James assessed.

"Whatever it is, it's  _definitely_  flying this way," Jubilee said, puzzled as the plane grew larger. "But, Dr. McCoy has a cloaking shield over this entire area; no one should be able to even see these cabins, or know they're here!"

"Well, it sure looks like that plane know  _something's_  here," Clarice frowned and crossed her arms. "Jubes, run back and tell Danielle to get the kids moving. I don't want to chance..."

_Clar...? ...Hea... ...e?  
_

She froze in mid-sentence and swiveled to look up again, this time cocking her head.

"Blink? What is it?" Lucas quirked his eyebrow, but Clarice ignored him. She narrowed her eyes and stared hard at the approaching aircraft. For the briefest second, she  _swore_  she'd heard...

_... ice? Ca... yo... ...r m...?_

Her heart fluttered excitedly.  _The noise sounds more like static than a voice, but still..._  As foolish as she felt hoping, she knew she had to try. She closed her eyes, concentrating hard.

_...Professor?_

_...Clarice?_...Can you hear me?

This time, the man's voice echoed clearly in her mind.

" _Professor?!_ " She opened her eyes and yelled. All three of her teammates startled. "Guys! It's it's  _them_! The plane is  _them_!" The teens began cheering, and Clarice almost started crying from the sheer relief.

 _Oh, thank god!_ She concentrated again. _Thank god you're alright! Is everyone with you? Are they Ok? Is anyone...?_

_Yes, everyone's alright, but... this connection is... hard to hold. Make sure everyone's... safe distance... landing... talk on ground, dear..._

Clarice's team retreated to a safe distance and kept the excited onlookers at bay. A few moments later, a small jet touched down in the field across from the pond. As the engines powered down, Clarice broke into a run towards the plane. Nothing was going to hold her back now.

As she ran, she saw a dusky cloud appear on the ground and swirl into Kurt and the Professor. Kurt's golden eyes lit up when he saw her, and she burst into tears when he teleported into her open arms. As much as she'd been worried about Big Brother, she'd been  _more_  worried about her young, inexperienced nephew on the rescue mission. It felt incredible to have Kurt back, safe and sound just when she'd just started to fear the worst.

"I have to go help the others, but I'll be  _right_  back, Ok? Don't go anywhere!" Kurt said after a moment, pulling back from their embrace and giving her a lopsided smile. Clarice nodded, wiping her eyes. A few students had followed her towards the plane, and as Kurt disappeared, she saw that the Professor was now swamped by his beloved pupils, each one jostling to hug or high-five their returning hero.

She grinned madly as very familiar red and black smoke erupted nearby, quickly solidifying into Azazel and Peter. Her smile quickly faded, however, as she watched Azazel help Peter onto  _crutches._ Her eyes traveled down to the bright white cast enveloping the speedster's entire right leg, and she pressed both hands over her mouth in shock. When she glanced back up, both Peter and Azazel had finally noticed her, and were now looking directly at her. She took a few steps forward but stopped, suddenly realizing that she faced a  _dilemma:_ Clarice didn't know who to go to first. Luckily, Azazel seemed to sense her hesitation. He gave her a knowing smirk as he stepped away from Peter and vanished, making her decision for her.

She didn't hesitate one second longer; Clarice launched herself at Peter.

"Whoa Clarice!  _Red light! Red light!_ " Peter laughed as he fell backwards from the force of her greeting. She caught him quickly by his forearms, although he did lose a crutch in his stumble.

"Sorry! I  _just_...I'm  _so_... " She choked on her words as she helped steady his footing. She laid her hand gently on the side of Peter's face, touching him as if to confirm he was indeed real and alive and right here in her arms. Tears streamed freely down her face. "I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again."

Peter smiled lovely as he brushed her hair back gently, and leaned forward to kiss her.

"Wow, this is a  _new_  one Peter." Wanda interrupted as she appeared nearby with Jean and Kurt. She picked-up Peter's lost crutch and held it out for him. "Normally you just make girls cry from  _disappointment_."

" _Eat it_ , Witchy." Peter stuck out his tongue as he snatched back his crutch. Clarice laughed and hugged Peter tightly, relishing the feeling of having him close once again. Azazel then reappeared with Raven and two people she'd never seen before.  _Seems like they make a few new friends on their trip,_ she thought as she eyed at the young man with wings and mohawked girl. She was sure there would be good stories later that night when the two finally had a chance to talk. Azazel caught her eye as she looked over Peter's shoulder.

"I  _promised_  you, Little Sister." He motioned towards Peter with his chin, and it was all he needed to say. Clarice nodded, her voice too thick with emotion to speak. Azazel had promised to bring Peter back, and here he was; here  _everyone_  was, safely returned. Raven slipped her arm around Azazel's waist, but Clarice was surprised when he flinched.

"What's wrong?" She stepped back from Peter's arms and furrowed her brow.

"I broke few ribs," Azazel said, patting his right side lightly. "It is why I could  _nyet_  come back faster."

"Huh, so you break your  _ribs_  and Peter busts his  _leg?_ " Clarice shook her head with a friendly smirk. " _See?_ That's what happens when you don't take  _me_  along to keep everyone safe. At least no one was  _seriously_  hurt."

"I  _died_  for a little while!" Kurt added in a helpful tone.

"You... wait,  _what?_ " She frowned, and Kurt nodded. She turned to Azazel with wide eyes, but he just shrugged.

"It's  _true_ ," Wanda said, mimicking Azazel's shrug.

" _How?_ Kurt, you're...  _here_. You're  _standing_  here.  _Alive_. You are...  _alive_ , right?" Kurt smiled and nodded, making Clarice frown. She clearly wasn't following this development very well. "But... you _died?_ "

"Well, I got  _better._ " He said, his tail now wagging happily. "Actually, Mom said I..."

"...  _Mom?_ " Clarice interjected, her voice wavering. She looked quickly between the three colorful mutants, quirking her eyebrow. Neither Azazel nor Raven reacted in any way to Kurt's casual use of the word.

"What... um,  _what_  are you  _talking_  about, Kurt?" She cleared her throat, trying her best to play dumb. Raven and Azazel looked at each other, smirking and shaking their heads while Kurt smiled brightly. Clearly, she missed something rather  _important_  over the last four days.

"Oh, don't worry!" The indigo teen waved his arms. "They  _know_  that I  _know_ , but I didn't tell them that you accidentally told me that... ah,  _scheisse!_ " Kurt groaned and smacked his forehead.

"I  _knew_  it!" Azazel snickered triumphantly as Clarice put her hands over her face. He quickly turned to Raven. "I said this. Did I  _nyet_  say this in Munich?"

"It doesn't  _matter_ ," Raven dismissed as she moved forward and put her arms around Clarice. "We're  _home_ , that's what matters most."

 _Home_ , Clarice thought as she returned Raven's hug.  _My family is finally home._

* * *

If Charles ever doubted the work he was doing in Westchester, seeing how all the students left behind banded together and cared for one another in the face of adversity erased any of his last, niggling doubts. He knew the secret cabins had been a good idea, and he was grateful that Hank talked him into rigging up the extra security system concealing them. It seemed that everyone was running over to greet the returned team; a group of little ones had even gathered around Peter and Clarice, chattering excitedly and drawing on the speedster's cast.

Charles smiled as he closed his eyes, freeing his mind to vibrate with the good feelings and thoughts of the reunions blooming all around him. One of the best parts of being a telepath was the ability to immerse oneself in a sea of emotions without encroaching on anyone's specific, private thoughts. After the madness and torture he'd suffered in Egypt, Charles needed a few minutes of peace from his world to clam his mind.

As he soaked in all the quiet and beautiful moments, the thanksgiving prayers and happiness all around him, Charles suddenly felt one voice that he never expected to feel again.

 _It cannot be..._  He blinked and quickly scanned the assembled crowd.  _I swore I just felt..._

"...  _Alex?_ " Charles called out tentatively. He felt almost foolish for doing so, and he very nearly regretted uttering the name when to his left, Scott turn quickly and stared directly at him, his mouth agape in surprise. Charles was suddenly hit with a wave of longing and hope so strong from Scott that it erased everything else he'd been feeling. Charles scanned the crowd again, concentrating hard.

Just when all hope seemed lost, a figure emerged, limping through the students. Most his hair had been burned to the scalp and his arm lay broken in a sling, but his bright eyes and knowing smile gave away beyond any doubt that the figure was indeed Alex Summers.

"Well Charles," Alex grinned as he approached, "I hope you don't mind that I decided to sit this last mission out."

Charles felt the sting of tears as he nodded, unable to reply to Alex's jest. Never in a million years did he expect to see his former student - his  _friend_  - alive and well and waiting for him in Westchester. Across the way, Scott stood perfectly still, staring at Alex as if he was seeing a ghost.

"Hey, little brother." Alex's voice broke and his bottom lip started trembling. Scott didn't say a word; instead, he threw himself into his Alex's arms and wept.

 _It's so good to be home,_  Charles thought as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

* * *

"I take it  _you_  must be the famous Clarice?"

Clarice glanced away from Peter to see a man whom she didn't recognize standing nearby. He was one of the newcomers, and he looked about the Professor's age. He had piercing grey-blue eyes and cropped brown hair. Nothing about him screamed  _mutant_ , but there was something about him that was vaguely  _familiar_ , although she couldn't quite place how'd she possibly know him. Instead, she turned back to Peter for an explanation.

She didn't have to wait long.

"Oh my God, Clairbear, check  _this_  out!" He waved for the man to join them, and he was practically glowing with excitement. "This dude is  _Erik Lensherr_. He's my  _dad!_ "

"Your...  _oh!_ " Clarice uttered, her eyes widening with shock. The man standing just a few feet away and now holding out his hand was the famous  _Magneto_ , the  _international terrorist,_ as Peter so easily put it a week ago. This man was also the reason why Azazel forbade her from dating Peter (a hell of lot of good  _that_  did). Erik gave her a charming smile and she recovered, taking his hand in greeting. As they shook, Erik suddenly froze and looked surprised himself, staring down at the ground. Clarice followed his eyes to find Luna looking up from where she'd been doodling on Peter's cast.

" _Where did you get that?!_ " He demanded as he jabbed a finger at the little girl. She shrank back, her pale eyes growing large with fear. Clarice pulled away from Erik's handshake to picked Luna up just as she started whimpering.

"You're  _scaring_  her!" She chided. Peter's father or not, she wasn't going to let  _anyone_  frighten Luna. The little girl buried her head against Clarice's neck, refusing to look at Erik.

Suddenly, Raven gasped and clamped both hands over her mouth.

"Where did she find that necklace?!" The blue woman pointed at Luna, and Clarice glanced down. Luna's silver locket was laying against her shoulder.

" _I_  found it in one of the fields when I was scavenging for supplies. She's worn it for a few days now while we've been looking for its owner.  _What_  is going on?"

"Erik, I'm so sorry!" Raven stepped forward and laid her hand lightly on Erik's arm. "This is all  _my_  fault. I went to Poland looking for you, and I found your house and I saw..." Her voice faded as she swallowed hard before casting her eyes to her feet. Erik put his hand over hers and patted it gently. Raven looked back up. "I must've still had the necklace in my hand when we teleported here, right before the school blew up. I  _never_  meant to take it. I'm  _sorry_."

"It's alright Raven, I was just...  _surprised_ , to see it again, and here.  _Sweetheart?_ " Erik then turned back to Luna, and his voice grew much gentler. It sounded kind enough that the little girl at least looked at him.

"Her name's Luna," Peter whispered helpfully. Erik nodded as he bent to be eye-level with the little girl.

"Luna, I'm very sorry I raised my voice. I didn't mean to frighten you. Can I ask you a favor? Can you show me your pretty necklace, just for a moment?"

"Go ahead honey," Clarice whispered as she shifted the little girl's weight in her arms. "It's alright. Show the nice man your necklace."

Luna shyly nodded and pulled the necklace over her head, holding it out for Erik to take. He thanked her, and quickly unlatched the locket. He smiled sadly as he looked at it quietly for a moment before holding it up for Peter to see. Behind him, Clarice saw Wanda and Kurt stealing glances over Peter's shoulder. Even Azazel couldn't hide his curiosity as to what the necklace concealed.

"Peter, these are your  _grandparents._ " Erik's voice was quiet and heavy. "They died when I was a boy, but you look a bit like your grandmother, I think. And, your grandfather had silver hair from a young age as well. I..." Erik paused to take a deep breath and compose himself. "I gave this necklace to your sister Nina, but I'd like for you to have it now."

"I...  _wow_ ," Peter nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. "I'm  _honored,_ Dad."

Erik closed the locket carefully, but instead of handing it to Peter, he held it back out to Luna. He smiled warmly at the little girl.

"Do you think you can keep this safe for Peter, for just a little longer?"

* * *

"I could get  _used_  to this," Raven purred as she sipped her wine and laid her head on Azazel's shoulder. He smiled and stroked her hair, tucking it loosely behind her ear. They'd been in Westchester for a few hours now, and once the homecoming died down, Charles took charge assigning the various groups to shelters across the compound. Raven now sat in a quaint, two bedroom cabin - her family's temporary home until the school was rebuilt - and happily in the company of Azazel, Clarice and Kurt. It was the first chance she had to really relax in what felt like years.

Presently, Clarice and Kurt were in the kitchen, chatting excitedly as they prepared dinner. Azazel had offered to find dinner for them, but the two were adamant about cooking something from the cabin's limited pantry. It took Raven a few minutes to realize that Clarice and Kurt really just wanted to spend time together. So, as they set about making dinner, she tasked Azazel with finding something to drink. He returned with a few bottles of expensive wine and some soda for Kurt. They sat on the small couch, chatting quietly as they watched the kids cook.

After all that transpired over the last week, Raven was beyond grateful for this private time. Earlier, it looked like Peter and Wanda were going to stay in their cabin, but Mrs. Maximoff had miraculously appeared, having driven the four hours from Boston to Westchester to collect her children. Her arrival was rather comical; the woman ran from her still idling car to tearfully embrace her son and daughter and immediately slap Erik as soon as he tried to speak to her. For the time being, the Maximoffs were headed back to Boston (Raven swore she heard their mother say something about them about being  _grounded_ ), but she did give permission for Clarice and Kurt to visit as soon, and Erik was allowed to telephone.  _Maybe._

As much as Raven didn't mind Peter and Wanda, Raven was happy that her little family got some private time to get to know one another on their own terms.

" _Ta-da!_ " Kurt interrupted her thoughts as he loudly presented the bowl of piping hot pasta in the middle of the table.

"I hope you like spaghetti because as it turns out, that's all we have!" Clarice announced, laying out plates as Raven and Azazel got up to take their seats at the table. "At least we had bread and butter, and yesterday I found some wild garlic, so I made some garlic bread."

"And I made the pasta sauce!" Kurt said, a touch of pride in his voice.

"You  _opened_  a jar and  _heated_  it up," Clarice snickered as she sat. "That hardly counts  _'making.'_ "

" _Nein_ ," he defended, "I added pepper and some garlic to it."

"That  _counts_ ," Azazel nodded at Kurt as Clarice rolled her eyes. As everyone passed food and filled their plates, Raven realized that she couldn't remember the last time she'd sat down at a table in some semblance of a family dinner. For a few moments, the room was quiet save for the sound of clanking silverware and chewing.

"So, I have a question." Kurt said tentatively, breaking the room's brief silence. "What should I  _call_  everyone?"

"How do you mean?" Azazel asked as he bit into the garlic bread. He nodded at Clarice, signaling approval.

"I mean, English is our  _Lingua Franca_ , but we all speak  _different_  native languages, and then there's my German family to consider, so..." Kurt shrugged innocently, "I guess I'm not sure what to call everyone now that we're a  _real_  family."

Raven paused, her fork frozen in mid-air as she considered her son's question. Between her English, Azazel's Chechen and Russian, Clarice's Vietnamese and Russian, and of course Kurt's German, it seemed like the possibilities were endless for family titles. It was a  _good_  question.

"I'd to be ' _Mom_ ,' in English," she finally replied. She smiled sweetly at Kurt. "It just  _feels_  right. And then Margali can keep being  _Mama._ She's certainly earned it."

" _'Otets'_ is Russian for father, and I think it is  _'Daa'_  in Chechen, but you first called me  _'Dad'_  in English," Azazel chimed in. "I liked that very much."

"Aunt or  _Tante_  is fine with me," Clarice shrugged. "Sure as heck beats _Cô_  Clarice." She then paused and looked across the table at Raven. "You know, since we're on the topic, what should I call  _you?_ "

"Technically, I'm your sister-in-law," Raven answered. She then put her fork down and reached over, putting her hand over Clarice's. "I wanted to  _adopt_  you, when we first found you. If things had been different, you would have been our  _daughter_."

" _Really?_  Oh Raven, that's so sweet!" Clarice smiled warmly at Raven before turning to Azazel and snickering. "Looks like I dodged a bullet there, right...  _Dad?_ Could you image?"

"You are really  _funny,_ you know that?" Azazel rolled his eyes as she laughed. He then put down his fork and laid both hands on the table. "After things quiet down and my ribs heals, I would like for us all to go somewhere for a while."

"Like, a  _family vacation_?" Kurt perked up, and Azazel smiled.

" _Da_ , exactly like that."

"As long as we're not going to Minsk, count me in." Clarice added.

" _Minsk?_ " Raven laughed as she turned to Azazel. "You still have that  _shithole_  safe house in Minsk?"

"Is  _nyet_  shithole," Azazel frowned. "I happen to  _like_  that house."

"Zaz, whenever it rained, that place smelled like  _socks_."

"I know,  _right?_ " Clarice agreed excitedly. "Of course, he doesn't think so."

"You two are going to drive me to an early grave." Azazel sighed and put his hand on his forehead.

"Well then I call  _shotgun!_ " Raven started giggling, unable to help herself.

"Fuck shotgun, I'm  _driving!_ " Clarice squealed, making Kurt laugh. After a few seconds, even Azazel was smiling and shaking his head at their antics.

 _If this is what home is supposed to be_ , Raven thought as she wiped tears of laughter from her face,  _then I don't want to be anywhere else._


	56. The Deal

_Three Weeks Later..._

" _Moira?_ "

Azazel eased into a slow jog as he approached his family's cabin. Sure enough, the CIA agent stood at the front door with one hand posed to knock. She turned quickly as he approached.

"I didn't know you were a  _runner,_ " Moira mused, clearly surprised as she looked him over.

" _Da_ , eight kilometers every day, whenever is possible," he answered, grabbing the towel he'd left outside. He blotted the sweat off his face and chest before slinging it around his neck. It was only late morning but it was already hotter than he anticipated, even though he was running much slower than his normal pace. It was the first real run he'd been able to do since his injury; slow or not, Azazel was just happy to get out and expend some pent-up energy.

"Are you looking for Charles?"

"Actually, Charles sent me here. I was looking for  _you_."

" _Oh._ " He uttered quietly, furrowing his brow. He wasn't sure  _what_  Moira could want with him; the two hadn't really spoken since the day she told him about the tracking chips in Margali's caravan. Actually, Azazel hadn't even  _seen_  the agent since they landed on school grounds. Moira left Westchester almost immediately for the CIA headquarters, saying something about a state debriefing and then seeing Kevin.

"I was hoping we could talk? I brought  _beer,_ " she added in a sing-song voice, giving a friendly smile as she held up a six-pack.

"Well, in  _that_  case," he smirked, "give me time to shower?"

"Sure, I'll be out on the pier. Meet me when you're ready."

Azazel didn't take long to wash up; he was far too curious as to what Moira wanted with him. Her visit would provide a welcome break from his daily routine, in any case. Since they'd arrived back in America and he and Clarice were laying low, Azazel suddenly found he had a lot of free time on his hands. As soon as Charles found adequate transportation, most of the students left for summer break, and until the school was rebuilt, Azazel couldn't begin teaching. Today he was actually totally alone: Raven was on site with Charles and Hank overseeing the new construction while Kurt and Clarice were spending a few days in Boston visiting the Maximoffs (which was also welcome, since Azazel was tired of tripping over the  _damn_  phone cord whenever those two stretched the landline into a closet or hogged the bathroom for privacy). Even Warren and Ororo weren't in their cabin; the two extremely grateful mutants were on site helping Charles any way they could. Until Azazel sorted out things in the East, he couldn't risk showing his face publicly, not even on school grounds if construction crews were present. His crimson skin and tail didn't exactly allow him to go  _incognito_  like sunglasses and make-up did for Clarice. He didn't mind the cabins' solitude and of course, he was happy being with his family, but for someone who could travel across the globe in the blink of an eye, he was almost starting to feel  _trapped_. Thank god at least Hank managed to hook-up a television in the cabin. American soap operas were  _fantastic_ , and provided some level of solo entertainment when he didn't feel like reading or training. Plus, the TV was improving his English, which he was trying to speak as much as possible now that he lived in the West (he'd even almost started to get contractions right).

Azazel finished dressing and seconds later appeared on the pier. Moira sat at the end with her shoes next to her, her toes skimming the water's surface. A small white cat lay on her lap, purring contently as she scratched its ears. The agent didn't flinch or turn at the sound of his arrival. She merely held up a can of beer, shaking it invitingly without even glancing over her shoulder.

"I see you have met  _Emma_ ," he gestured at the cat as he kicked off his own shoes. He rolled-up his pants legs and sat next to her, plunging his feet in the water.

" _'Emma'_? Are you  _serious?_ " Moira giggled as she handed him the beer. The cat perked up at the name, blinking its sapphire eyes.

"It seemed  _funny,_ at the time," he shrugged and cracked open the can.

"And how does  _Raven_  feel about you naming a cat after the  _White Queen?_ " She bit her lip. Azazel rolled his eyes and waved off her playful insinuation.

" _Raven_  does  _nyet_  know about Emma. I found her in woods last week. She is stray." He took a long drink. The beer was cold and refreshing. He made a mental note to cut a pair of pants into shorts soon; Westchester's summer was already proving to be much hotter than Moscow's. Emma quickly left Moira's lap, yawning and stretching before curling up in a ball in his. He stroked her silky fur and smiled lightly. He'd never stayed in one place long enough for the luxury of a pet; even after only a few days, he was rather fond of the little creature.

"It's very pretty here," Moira gestured around them, "and I bet the running trails are glorious."

" _Da_ , very  _pretty_  and very  _quiet_ ," he agreed. The wooded trails winding around the extensive estate grounds were lovely, and with his adjustment to civilian life, he appreciated their many kilometers. It seemed in the last few weeks, he hadn't traveled the same trail twice.

"Maybe I'll bring my running shoes and join you tomorrow morning," she glanced over with a smirk, "that is,  _if_  you can keep up with me. I'm pretty  _fast_."

"Must be why Charles enjoys your company so much, if you are indeed such a...  _fast woman,"_ he teased, eliciting a laugh. "But, I do  _nyet_  believe you came all this way to talk about running or the view."

"You're right; I didn't." She shifted her position until she faced him. "I actually came here to make you an  _offer_."

"An...  _offer?_ What  _kind_  of offer?" He asked apprehensively, looking her over. Her laughter faded and she was suddenly much more serious.

"An offer of  _amnesty,_ " Moira responded, carefully studying his reaction. "The United States government is willing to offering  _full amnesty_  for you and Clarice, effective  _immediately_." Azazel nodded but remained silent, not allowing any emotion to register on his face. He drank the rest of his beer in silence, looking out over the tranquil pond.  _Amnesty_  - real, honest-to-god  _amnesty_  - meant that he and Clarice could live their rest of their lives peacefully in the West, show their faces publicly without retribution, and no longer be criminals in fear of extradition to the U.S.S.R. But the United States  _knowingly_  allowing two ex-KGB operatives the freedom to remain on American soil? He knew the moment Moira spoke that her offer was good;  _too good_ , in fact.

"And what is  _price_  for this generous offer?" Azazel frowned as he turned back to face her.

" _Information_ ," she said, taking a deep breath. "We need information on the KGB cell you and Clarice were a part of. We need details on how it operates and how to locate the people who run it."

"I am  _nyet_ _snitch,_ " he growled, crushing the empty can, "and I will  _nyet_  sell out former comrades!"

"We're not after your  _comrades_ ," Moira clarified. She grabbed a second can and handed it to him, pausing to open one for herself. "We're not interested in catching mutant operatives or assassins. We're after the  _bosses_ , the  _top-level_  personnel. We want information on how to get to them."

Azazel clenched his jaw, staring hard at her. He didn't like where this conversation was headed.

" _Look_ ," Moira held up her hands pleadingly, "I know you don't like hearing this. I know you feel conflicted and I understand that, but think of it this way:  _you_  can't risk going after the assholes who tore you and Raven apart. You  _know_  this. You know that if you are caught, or if anyone finds out you're behind the disappearance of several high-profile KGB bosses, they'll come after  _everyone_ : Raven, Clarice, Kurt, even Charles and the school... I'm not saying this to anger you, and I'm not staying this to scare you into helping me. I'm saying this because you  _know_  it's true. I know you want revenge against the people who took your family from you, but you can't do it yourself; give me information, and I'll make sure the CIA does it  _for_  you."

Azazel huffed angrily and glanced away, balling his free hand into a fist. Truthfully, Moira made a  _good_ point: in all the fantasy scenarios Azazel had of exacting revenge on the men and women who set up the '67 raid, he knew the fatal flaw in each was the risk of putting his entire family in mortal danger if  _anything_  went wrong. But, he still didn't like the implications of what Moira was asking. Talk to the United States government? The same government that tried to kill all of them in Cuba? The same men and women who'd been his sworn enemies for nearly his entire life? It was a lot to ask of him, even if he was currently at odds with his former employers.

He ran his fingers through his hair. In his lap, Emma stirred as if sensing his uneasiness. Yes, he wanted to remain in the West with Raven and Kurt, and he wanted Clarice to do so too. He wanted all of them to be safe, happy, and be the real family they deserved, but deep in his heart, he knew they couldn't really achieve any of that with the constant, looming threat of the KGB finding out that he and Clarice had bucked their yolks and defected West. The two were living on borrowed time, and Azazel heard the clock ticking louder every day.

 _What choice do I really have?_  He drummed his fingers on the pier. He always knew he'd have hard choices to make to keep his family safe, but the magnitude of Moira's proposal - and ramifications if the KGB ever discovered he talked to the CIA - actually scared him (not that he was going to admit that out loud, but still). Eventually, he sighed unhappily and turned back to face the agent.

" _If_  I choose to help you -  _if_  I choose to talk for this amnesty - then I have  _conditions_ ," he said firmly. Moira looked up at him, wide-eyed and hopeful.

"Of course," she eagerly nodded.

"First, _if_  I talk, I talk  _only_  with you," he held up a finger to drive home his point. "I will  _nyet_  talk to any other agent, and we talk here, in Westchester. I will  _nyet_  go to any CIA building. I am wanted man, might as well  _shoot_  self if walking into CIA building."

"I wouldn't let you go to Langley or Washington even if you demanded," she readily agreed. "You talk here, and only with me."

"Second, Clarice is to be left out  _completely_ ," Azazel said this very carefully. " _Nyet_  asking her to talk, and  _nyet_  accepting any offers to help. If is ever found out I talked, I want it to be known that  _only_  I talked. I did it behind her back, even. She was against talking.  _Understand?_ "

"Clarice has  _nothing_  to do with any of this," the agent nodded. Obviously, Azazel didn't want anyone to find out if he talked, but if the information somehow got out, he at least wanted Clarice to be free from suspicion. It not only protected her, and she could protect Raven and Kurt in his place if necessary.

"Last, the other mutants operatives like Clarice and myself? You must give your word they will  _nyet_  be harmed. You must go after the bosses only, never their hired men and women."

"You have my word," Moira responded. "Only the bosses, none of the operatives. But, can I ask  _why_  you care so much about them? I thought you all worked on independent contracts."

"Most of the operatives are like me," he sighed, "taken from family as children and given  _nyet_ any choice about lives. It was  _kill_  or  _be killed_ , end of story. I  _never_  wanted that life," he added quietly, surprising even himself at how easily the admission came. He looked directly at Moira. "I think I was maybe five when they took me away, beat me, and gave me new name. All I wanted was my mother; I wanted to remember my real name. After a time, every day became about survival. In the East, mutants are still  _monsters_ : feared and hunted, killed for being what we are. The KGB gave took us children in and gave us purpose, training to fight back, food, shelter, and safety. You learn to be grateful and loyal for the little they give you, thinking it is the only way of life for mutants. For long time, I was content. Then, I met Raven, for the first time, I did  _nyet_  want that life anymore. I wanted children, and a  _future_. I wanted this, but I did  _nyet_  know it was possible." He motioned to the school grounds surrounding them. "I do  _nyet_  blame my comrades for what they are, but no one should be forced into that life, not if they could have a Westchester instead. I wish everyday I could have given this to Clarice, but thankfully she is young, so there is still hope for her yet."

Azazel glanced back towards the cabins. He was surprised when he felt Moira's hand gently fold over his. The two sat quietly for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Azazel shook his head and pulled his hand away.

"I do  _nyet_  know why we are talking about this. You know amnesty means  _nyet_  if we cannot completely sever all ties with the East. As long as Clarice and I live, they will hunt us."

"I have an idea about about how we might solve  _that_  little problem," Moira smiled. Azazel looked at her and quirked an eyebrow. He waited, but the agent only shook her head as she handed him the last beer.

"You'll just have to trust me...  _comrade_."

* * *

" _Wow_  Clarice!" Kurt gave a low whistle. "You look  _so different!_ "

"You do like, right?" She asked, running her fingers through her now shoulder-length,  _platinum blonde_  hair. Kurt was surprised to hear a touch of nervousness in her voice. He'd never have guessed Clarice cared that much what he thought about her looks.

"Are you  _kidding?_ " He assured, grinning widely to match. "I  _love_  it!"

"You really look like a movie star!" Wanda added. Kurt caught her eye and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze.  _  
_

"Aww, thanks guys!" She smiled again at her reflection. "Kurt, your dad's going to _shit_  when he sees this."

" _Why?_ " The indigo teen puzzled. Sure, Clarice  _looked_  really different, but she was still the same girl. And, her new hair cut and color would help disguise her identity in case anyone from Russia came looking for her. No one told Kurt this outright, but he overheard his parents talking about it one night in the kitchen, after they thought he and Clarice were asleep.

"For the record, I  _still_  think you should have gone  _silver_ ," Peter smirked. Clarice stuck her tongue at him before turning back to Kurt.

" _Meh,_ " she shrugged, "Azazel's got stupid outdated notions about women having long hair. Even your mom wears her hair longer around him, if you haven't noticed." She then turned to Peter and Wanda's mom, utterly beaming. "Mrs. Maximoff, I  _seriously_  can't thank you enough. This is  _incredible!_ "

"You're very welcome. And please, call me  _Magda_ ," Mrs. Maximoff smiled kindly. She caught Kurt's eye in the mirror and snapped her shears playfully. "Are you  _sure_  you don't anything done?"

" _Nein_ , but thank you," Kurt shook his head. "I think I'm already  _enough_  colors."

" _Ugh!_  Mom, the sink's leaking  _again_." Wanda nudged a bucket towards the sink with her foot.

"Peter, make sure to put on your to-do list that I want this leaky sink  _fixed_ , Ok?" Mrs. Maximoff frowned at the dripping pipe, then at her son. " _Peter?_  Did you  _hear_  me?"

"Yep, got it, Ma." Peter responded as he stared dreamily at Clarice. Mrs. Maximoff rolled her eyes but smiled. Kurt giggled, doubting the enamored speedster would remember anything she just said.

It was Kurt and Clarice's last day in Boston, and everyone crowded into Mrs. Maximoff's side of the basement. As it turned out, Peter and Wanda's mother was a highly sought after hair stylist, and when she overheard Clarice's desire to change her cut and color, the woman insisted on doing it herself. It was actually really fun to watch (Kurt had no idea that going from black and purple to bright blonde was so complicated; it certainly took a lot longer than when Jubilee put the blue highlights in his hair).

Overall, the entire weekend had been a blast. He and Clarice had caught the train from New York City to Boston, and then spent most of their time just hanging out at the Maximoff's house. Peter still couldn't travel much because of his cast, so the four rented a bunch of movies, played cards and board games, and last night Clarice cooked a big Vietnamese dinner for everyone (with his help, of course; Kurt was getting really good at chopping vegetables). Kurt even had fun sleeping in Peter's room. The speedster had a secret stash of Hostess snacks and the two had stayed up way too late playing video games and listening to music. Clarice slept upstairs in Wanda's room, which Kurt was also allowed in as long as the door was kept open at all times. Ms. Maximoff was very kind and Kurt liked her very much; she gave them a lot of freedom as long as they respected her house-rules (not to mention she made  _amazing_  oatmeal-raisin cookies; as much as Kurt loved Raven, he doubted she was going to turn into a cookie-baking mom any time soon). He did get a little private time with Wanda, but they mostly just held hands and talked, kissing only a little bit. Kurt didn't want to disrespect Ms. Maximoff's house rules or Wanda, and he knew Peter was still keeping an eye on his little sister, even if the speedster was much more relaxed now that he and Kurt spend sufficient  _'bro-time'_  together, as Peter called it.

Upstairs, the doorbell suddenly chimed, interrupting Kurt's thoughts. Mrs. Maximoff glanced at the wall clock and sighed.

"That must be your  _father_ ," she addressed Peter, wiping her hands clean on a towel. "If there's one thing you can count on him for, it's  _punctuality_."

The group made their way upstairs, with Kurt teleporting Peter directly into the kitchen. Before he arrived, Peter had been mostly stuck in the living room on the couch (and hogging the TV, according to Wanda). Mrs. Maximoff unlatched the backdoor.

" _Erik_." She said coolly as she stood in the doorway, crossing her arms. The man nodded and smiled lightly, extending his hand for her to shake. Outside, it was raining pretty hard, and the drops splashed against his hat and trench coat.

"Hello Magda. It's nice to see..."

"You and Peter can sit there," she interrupted and pointed towards kitchen table. "And don't  _touch_  anything." She then turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving him standing in the rain with this hand in the air.

" _Dadneto!_ " Peter grinned madly and hobbled towards the door with his crutches. Mr. Lensherr stepped into the kitchen, but Peter pushed away his hand in favor of an overly affectionate bear-hug. Mr. Lensherr looked a bit surprised, but he hugged Peter back.

"Hi Mr. Lensherr!" Kurt greeted with a wave, and the man nodded at him and Wanda. The indigo teen knew Ms. Maximoff didn't get along with Peter's dad, but he still thought it was super nice of her to invite the man over to see Peter. Just like Azazel, Kurt knew Mr. Lensherr was trying to be inconspicuous (although, he didn't think wearing a trench coat and fedora hat in a Boston summer helped). Right now, hanging out with Peter in a public place wasn't possible, nor was coming to the house's front door less his visit cause the neighbors to gossip. Mr. Lensherr looked over at Clarice and furrowed his brow.

"Am I  _crazy_ , or did you have dark hair when I met you?" He asked.

"I just got it done," she laughed. "Magda did it. What do you think?"

"You look lovely, my dear."

"Don't you think she would look  _cooler_  if it was silver?" Peter added and Clarice shook her head.

"Hey, let's give them some privacy?" Wanda suggested, gesturing at the door. While Erik and Peter visited in the kitchen, Clarice and Wanda played Nintendo in the living room while Kurt watched. He'd never been great at  _Donkey Kong_ , but he enjoyed watching the girls battle each other. After a while, Mrs. Maximoff appeared with a plate of sandwiches for them, trailed by Peter and his dad.

"The leaky sink has been vanquished!" The speedster announced, hobbling into the room.

"Wait,  _you_  actually got off your butt and  _fixed_  something?" Wanda snickered as she bit into her sandwich. "Quick Mom, call the  _The Globe;_ they'll want to cover this story."

"Dad fixed it,  _Ms. Smartypants_ ," Peter razzed back. Mrs. Maximoff looked at Mr. Lensherr and quirked her eyebrow, but he merely shrugged.

"It was no trouble, really." He blushed slightly as he waved away her concern. "I just...  _tightened_  a few of the metal bolts. It shouldn't give you any more trouble, but if it does, just let me know."

"Well...  _thank you_ ," Mrs. Maximoff uncrossed her arms. "That sink's been issue for years."

After that, she allowed Mr. Lensherr to hang out in the living room with everyone else (although Kurt noted he still wasn't allowed to touch anything).

A few hours later after they all said their goodbyes and picked a date for the next hang out, Kurt found himself in the backseat of a car headed towards Westchester. While missed Wanda as soon as they pulled out of the driveway, part of him was excited to finally have a chance to talk to Mr. Lensherr. He knew the man had spent quite a bit of time with his parents way back in the day before he was born.

"Hey Mr. Lensherr! Can I ask you a question?"

" _'Mr. Lensherr'_  was my  _father_ ," Erik looked into the rear-view mirror with an amused expression. "Please, just call me  _Erik_."

"Ok,  _Erik?_  What were my parents like, way back when?" At his question, even Clarice perked up and looked at Erik from the passenger seat. Kurt knew that even she didn't know much about his dad's life before she came into it. Erik looked at Kurt in the rear view mirror again for a few seconds, seeming to study his face. Kurt could see his own dark skin and bright eyes reflected back. He smiled encouragingly at Erik.

"They were...  _incredible,_ " Erik said eventually as he looked back at the road. "Your mother was one of the most passionate mutant rights fighters I've ever met, and no one could best your father in hand-to-hand combat. I didn't deserve either of them." To Kurt's surprise and delight, Erik then recounted his story of first meeting Uncle Charles and his mom, and working with the first X-Men to bring down the evil Sebastian Shaw. The indigo teen had a hard time picturing all of the adults at Westchester, and just kids themselves like him, Scott, Jean, Jubilee and Wanda, fighting together against Shaw just like his friends had fought En Sabah Nur.

"What was Azazel like at my age? I bet he was a  _royal pain_." Clarice snickered, making Erik smirk.

"He could certainly be stubborn at times, but he was loyal and an astounding swordsman.  _Still_  is, from what I saw in Egypt. I never got to know him well, actually. We...  _disagreed_  about leadership, and maybe about Raven, a little." At this, Erik grinned and shook his head.

"Come on Erik; tell us something  _juicy!_ " Clarice ribbed.

He flipped on the blinker to enter the highway. Kurt glanced at the clock; they had about three hours before reaching home. Slowly, a mischievous smile spread across Erik's face. Kurt grinned too; he'd only really ever seen Erik look serious, so this playfully expression was a nice change, although he doubted that Erik would divulge anything gossipy, as he didn't seem the type...

"Did Azazel ever tell you about the time he got shot in the ass because of Raven and refused to speak to her for an entire week?"

Both Clarice and Kurt looked at him in wide-eyed shock for a few seconds before Clarice burst into laughter.

"Erik? You are now my new  _favorite_  person."

* * *

"You are _incredible,_ " Azazel praised between gulping breaths. Raven rolled over, folding her hands under her chin to rest her head on his stomach. She gazed up as he trailed slightly shaky finger through her hair. His eyes were closed and he was grinning like a fool, utterly head-over-heels. She loved seeing him like this; Azazel was rarely this exposed, his guard dropped completely. Raven could still remember when she was much younger, and couldn't possibly believe that any soft edges or vulnerability lay inside the red man. He'd seemed so hard and fierce when she first met him that she never could image the punch-drunk lover laying next to her, smiling and panting from exertion.

She smiled, sitting up to grab the nearly-empty wine bottle on the nightstand. Azazel's tail curled around her leg, its spade twitching happily of its own accord. Raven was content, knowing she made the right decision. A few hours earlier, she had take out delivered to the construction site, and waving goodbye to Charles, she skipped out early to head back to the cabins. It was the last afternoon she and Azazel had before Clarice and Kurt came home, and she wanted to make the most of it. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy having the kids around; Raven was immensely enjoying being a family, but part of her was looking forward to having more privacy once the school was rebuilt. Their small, two bedroom, one bathroom  _shared_  cabin meant that she and Azazel had to be very opportunistic with romantic encounters, and the unprecedented alone time they'd had over the last few days had been badly needed. Azazel had been pleasantly surprised by her unexpected return; the pair made it about halfway through lunch before they locked eyes across the table, mutually decided  _to hell with this_  and had sex right there in the kitchen.

And again, on the couch.

And, in the shower after that.

And now, they lay sprawled across their bed with no intention of moving anytime soon (although Raven supposed one of them should probably collect Azazel's clothes from the main room before the kids arrived).

"I saw Moira today," he casually mentioned when he finally sat up, motioning for the bottle.

"You're really going to pillow talk about  _another_  women?" Raven snickered. He rolled his eyes, but before he could explain, she suddenly sneezed again.

"Are you  _alright?_ " He tilted his head.

"It's just allergies _,_ " she waved off his concern as she reached for a tissue. "It's strange though; I'm really only allergic to  _cats_ , and it's not like there's a cat around here."

" _Da_ , that is...  _strange_ ," he said, glancing away and taking a long drink.

"Anyways, Moira was  _here?_  I thought I saw her on site speaking with Charles, but what was she doing here?" Raven knew Moira was back for a few days - much to her brother's  _immense_  delight - but she wasn't sure what the agent would want with Azazel. She knew the two called a truce during their troubles in Egypt and remained on friendly enough terms ( _'best frenemies,'_  as Clarice so fondly called them). Azazel quickly filled her in on their conversation. Raven frowned as all the implications set it. She got up to fetch another bottle of wine, and returned with the rest of their unfinished lunch. The two sat quietly, drinking and eating while the proverbial elephant in the room loomed over them.

"We all know you're both making a  _huge_  sacrifice to be here with us," she acknowledged, finally breaking the silence. "It means so much to me and to Kurt, more than I can ever put into words. And you know Charles will do everything in his power to keep you both safe."

"We cannot stay hidden forever, Raven." Azazel acknowledged quietly. He dropped his chopsticks into the empty food container and pushed it away. "I am starting to think talking to Moira may be best option."

Raven nodded before looking away. The blue woman wasn't stupid; she'd been in the peripheral KGB once, and she knew the price that came with leaving on bad terms. Azazel and Clarice could use the chaos En Sabah Nur caused to lay low for a few weeks - a couple months at best - before the KGB got suspicious and started looking. If Azazel accepted Moira's offer, it would certainly sever his Eastern ties, but at  _what_  price? If the KGB found out one of their top assassins and his protegee defected to the United States, to say there would hell to pay was an understatement.

She turned back to Azazel and put her hand on his face, studying his expression quietly as she mulled over their predicament. He'd been pretty much trapped at the cabins since they'd returned, and not even allowed at the construction site (although, Raven secretly suspected he'd been there a few times already; it was hard to tell a  _teleporter_  where they could and couldn't go). Would amnesty really be able to keep him safe? Raven knew  _something_  to be done eventually; her free-spirited husband couldn't hide behind Charles and the walls of Westchester for the rest of his life. It wasn't fair to him, or to their family.

"I have something to ask," Azazel started, placing his hand over hers. She quirked an eyebrow at his almost nervous tone. "In all the times we have been together in last few weeks, you have  _nyet_  asked to use...  _protection_. Last time we did  _nyet_  use protection, we ended-up with  _Kurt,_ and so I am wondering..." She pulled her hand away and held it up for him to pause, then motioned for the wine bottle back. She took a long drink. She knew this topic would come up eventually; she might as well rip the bandage off completely.

"A few years back, I was in a  _really bad_  accident," she swallowed, looking down at the bottle. "I was rescuing a young mutant from her father, who was trying to kill her. We fled but he ran us off the road, leaving us for dead. I was pierced by a metal pipe,  _here_." Raven spread her fingers across to the smooth skin of her lower abdomen. A boon of her mutation was that she didn't scar, but her mutation only worked on the  _outside_  of her body. "I almost bled out, but luckily there was an underground mutant organization in the area. They found us and got us medical care, but I'd already started to have complications, and I..." She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. "Shortly after Kurt and I arrived at Westchester, I asked Hank to run a few tests, and he confirmed when I'd been told by the doctor who patched me up. I _can't_  have kids anymore, so there's no really reason worry about protection. Might as well  _enjoy_  it, right?" She forced a laugh, but Azazel frowned.

" _Devotchka,_ " he said quietly, taking her hand back.

"It's Ok, really. I'm Ok with it." Raven shrugged and sniffled, squeezing his hand tightly. "I know we never talked about having kids, but... I want you to know that I  _wanted_  children with you, when we were younger."

"We  _have_  Kurt," Azazel said firmly. "And maybe, one day he will have children, and we can be grandparents."

" _Grandparents?_ " Raven giggled. "Now you're making me feel  _old_. You know, since we're talking about the kids, I have a question for  _you_ : why did you adopt Clarice as a little sister and not a  _daughter_?" She'd been curious about their relationship for a while. When Azazel took Clarice in, she'd only been about seven or eight years old; Azazel had been in his thirties, clearly an appropriate age for a father-and-daughter dynamic.

"I could  _nyet_  imagine having  _daughter_  without you; it was easier to have a little sister. Besides," he smirked, "you have heard the  _mouth_  on that one,  _da_? I would be grounding her all the time, if she were daughter. And I would really have to murder Peter, for dating her."

"Speaking of..." Raven bit her lip and arched her eyebrow coyly. "We still have a good  _two hours_  until Kurt and Clarice get home."

"Oh,  _really?_ " Azazel gave her a small smile and set the wine bottle on the night stand. He held up his hands innocently while his tail tightened around her leg. " _Whatever_  should we do with our time?"

Raven pounced, seizing him by his wrists and pushing him backwards, pinning him against the bed. She straddled his waist as he blinked up in surprise. Clearly, he'd expected her to be a bit more tired after their adventurous afternoon.

"Be  _gentle_ ," he warned, making Raven throw back her head and laugh out loud.

"I absolutely will  _not_."

* * *

In the end, Moira kept her word: bright and early the next morning, she knocked on the cabin's front door, running shoes in hand.

Azazel had to admit that she was pretty damn fast, too.


	57. Proud

_**The (Rebuilt) Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, New York - 2 Months Later** _

"The buildings are coming along  _nicely_ ," Raven observed as she leaned against the door's frame, her hands on her hips. "Who would have thought that  _unlimited_  money and resources could put this place back together so  _fast?_ "

"You're really  _funny_  Raven, you know that?" Charles answered, not even bothering to glance up from his notes.

"I'd rather be  _funny_  than funny  _looking._ " She teased, making him pause and sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was an old joke between the two, one that eventually made her brother shake his head and relent with a chuckle. Raven smirked as she walked into his study and pulled out the chair across from him, not waiting for an invitation.

"How's things with the family?" Charles tossed his pen down and sat back, folding his hands on his lap.

"Good. Kurt and Clarice really like their new rooms, and it's nice to have more privacy, although I think Azazel needs a hobby. He's been driving me  _crazy_  since the kids moved out of the cabin. I think he gets bored during the daytime when no one's around to pester." The sapphire woman gazed around the office as she spoke. She was surprised at how identical it seemed to its previous incantation, right down to the mahogany woodwork and the over-filled bookshelves. It was hard to believe that almost a year ago she and Azazel sat in that very space, screaming at each other over Kurt's fate while her poor brother played a reluctant referee.

"You should get him a jigsaw puzzle," Charles suggested. "I always liked those when I felt restless."

"Does Azazel really look like the  _puzzle_  type to you?" Raven rolled her eyes at his well-meaning comment. Sometimes her genius, telepath brother could be really clueless. "At least having a TV helps, although I now know more about  _Dynasty_  and  _Days of Our Lives_  than I ever cared to."

"Well after tonight, things will hopefully get a a lot easier for everyone."

"You're still planning to go through with it, _huh?_ " Raven questioned as she reached out and snatched a paperweight from Charles's desk. She twirled it in her hands absentmindedly. Inside the thick glass was an artist's rendition of a DNA helix. It was a gift she'd given him the day Charles successfully defended his thesis at Oxford. There was a hairline crack in the glass, no doubt from the recent explosion. She was surprised that the little paperweight had survived the school's destruction, and moreso that Charles still had it.  _He's probably had it on his desk all these years_ , Raven mused. He'd always been the more sentimental of the two. The fact that he'd kept her gift after all this time did make her smile, even just a little.

"Sure, why not?" Charles nodded towards a door behind him. "The kids have been knocking themselves out getting it ready all morning. It wouldn't be fair to them to cancel. Besides, it'll be  _fun_."

"Ok, but don't blame me if anyone gets  _stabbed_." She sighed and set the paperweight back. "One more time for the record: he doesn't like  _surprises,_ and I doubt Clarice does either."

" _Noted_ ," Charles smiled. From behind the door, Raven heard muffled squeals of laughter. She couldn't help but shake her head, wondering what teenage shenanigans were unfolding just out of sight.

"Sometimes it's hard to believe  _we_  were ever that young," she said, studying Charles's face as she spoke. He smiled in agreement. Her brother still looked so much like his youthful, twenty-something self that it was temping to think that only a few years had passed since they parted ways after Cuba. But for the first time, Raven was beginning to see some grey strands taking root along his hairline and the start of fine crowfeet growing in the corners of his eyes. She caught his gaze and returned his smile; his bright, periwinkle eyes would always be youthful beyond their years.

"You know Charles, I never actually  _thanked_  you for taking me in that night when we were kids."

"Raven  _really_ ," Charles sat up, suddenly looking a touch surprised, "you don't have to... " She raised her hand to silence him. Raven had a long time to think about this, and she knew in her heart what she needed to say.

"Charles, listen: I never thanked you, and I never apologized for leaving you when you needed me the most. And, twenty-one years later you open your arms to not only me when I finally came home, but to my son and my husband and his sister. You gave us all a home here, when we gave you nothing. It's just... I just wanted to... " Raven grew quiet and looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers and thinking of all the things she needed to say but suddenly couldn't find the words to adequately express.

 _There's no need Raven_. Charles voiced echoed warmly though her mind. She looked back up, and he reached across the desk for her hand. She took his, and squeezed it affectionately.  _There's no need to use words when I can feel it_.  _No matter what happened or happens between us, you and yours will always have home here, with me. We're a family, and that's what families do.  
_

_I love you brother,_ Raven thought, grinning widely even as the tears pooled in her eyes.

_I love you too, sweet sister._

* * *

"What do you mean,  _maybe_?" Azazel said crossly in Russian. He folded his arms and sat back, his tail lashing to match his tone.

"I mean  _maybe_ ," Clarice lulled in their native tongue, "as in,  _maybe_  I don't want that to be my life anymore. If the United States is really offering us  _amnesty_ like you said, then that means we'll have the freedom to do  _whatever_  we want."

" _So?_ "

"So  _maybe_  I don't want my life to revolve around  _fighting_  anymore. Ever think about that?"

Azazel furrowed his brow and continued to stare at her, but she refused to look up. Instead, Clarice dangled a length of string for Emma, pending to be be engrossed by the activity. He frowned as the little cat pawed the air, and silently reminded himself that Emma wasn't actually  _Emma_  anymore; the cat now belonged to Peter, and  _his_  name was  _Freddy Mercury_. About a month prior during a torrential rainstorm, Azazel had been forced to reveal the cat when the poor creature yowled at the cabin's front door, demanding to be let inside. There was no lying to anyone when the animal ran to red mutant and jumped onto his lap as if it had belonged there its entire life. Of course this happened during the middle of dinner when everyone was present, including Wanda and Peter. When Azazel tried to explain to a rapidly angering Raven why he'd thought it was funny to name the cat after Emma, Peter held up the animal by its scruff and helpfully announced  _'dude, this cat's got a ding-dong.'_  Raven didn't speak to Azazel for two whole days after that fiasco. At least the speedster offered to adopt Freddy, and Azazel could still see the cat when he visited Clarice at the school.

Despite being heralded as a  _hero,_ part of Azazel still felt like an outsider at Westchester. Life in the West was good, but the longer he remained, the more he felt homesick for parts of his Eastern life (not that he was tempted to return, but still). He knew Clarice felt the same way, and the two siblings could often be found together, conversing in Russian about the little things they missed from their former lives; things as simple as being able to speak their native language without worry of being misunderstood or self-conscious about their accents. Clarice had been a constant in his life for seventeen years, and Azazel didn't realize until they defected to the West how much comfort he took just being in her presence; in many ways, he was closer to her than even to Raven.

At present, the two sat on the floor of Clarice's new room. He shifted slightly, grateful that his injuries from Egypt had finally healed. Azazel watched quietly as Clarice continued to play with Freddy, and the little cat now pawed at her hair. He still wasn't sure how he felt about  _that_ ; her haircut was so much shorter than she'd ever worn, and the bright blonde was so different. He'd about had a heart attack when she and Kurt came home from Boston that first weekend and Clarice was sporting the new look. It complimented her, but then again, she was pretty enough to make any style appealing.  _Thank god at least it's not silver_ , he thought for the hundredth time. Azazel wasn't sure he'd have been able to handle that.

He'd told Clarice about Moira's offer of amnesty a few weeks ago, but he hadn't told her about his decision to talk to the CIA agent in order to secure it. Azazel suspected she'd figured out on her own that he'd talked, but was smart enough not to ask him for details. Clarice wasn't an idiot; she would have known that some type of exchange had to happen for the ex-KGB operatives to be so lucky as to remain in the West with the American government's blessing. Talking with Moira had gone surprisingly smooth, too. The agent had been true to her word in all regards, not pushing for any information he wasn't comfortable sharing, and keeping their conversations veiled. Most of their talks had been while on morning runs together in the privacy of the Xavier estate woods. For the last month Moira had been back at Langley, and Azazel was almost starting miss his running companion.

"So," he started again, determined to get to the bottom of his little sister's sudden change of heart, "if you're telling me you do not want to help me teach, then what  _do_  you want to do?"

"Peter's taking his General Development Education test in a few weeks, and if he passes, he be able to start a community college program in the spring," she shrugged. "The program's in New York City."

"Well good for  _Peter_ ," Azazel retorted dryly, "what does this have to do with  _you_?"

"He's thinking about getting an apartment in the city so it's a shorter commute for school, and..." she paused to swallow, still looking at the cat, "... Peter asked me if I'd want to live there too, and I thought that maybe, if I'm in the city too, then I'd enroll in culinary school."

" _Culinary school?_ " Azazel practically yelled in surprise, tilting his head. She sighed loudly.

"For someone who's always begging me to cook for him, you sure sound  _surprised,_ " she snorted, the flippant annoyance clear in her voice.

"No, that's  _not_  what I meant," he waved his hand. "You are an excellent cook, it's just... well, no, I  _am_  surprised, Clarice.  _An apartment_?  _Culinary school_? This is the first time I've ever heard of these things from you, and you always..."

"Are you  _disappointed?_ " She interjected quietly.

" _What?_ " He stopped in mid rant, now looking at her in abject shock. For some reason, she continued to avoid his gaze. Azazel frowned; it was unlike her to be this meek. "Clarice,  _look_  at me."

After a moment, she finally looked up, and for the first time, Azazel could see clearly the fear reflected in her emerald eyes. Clarice was scared.  _Scared of disappointing me_. His heart lurched at the thought.

"You think you're  _disappointing_  me?"

"I just thought that maybe..."

"Clarice  _no,_ " he interrupted quickly. "You will  _never_  disappoint me."

"Really?" She asked, a touch of hope returning. "Even if I don't follow in your footsteps?"

"I  _want_  you to be your own person," he reassured.

"Even if I leave Westchester to live in New York City?"

"You can live wherever you want as long as I can visit."

"Even if I choose culinary school over helping teach your fight class?"

"As long as you invite me over for dinner sometimes."

"Even if I keep dating Peter?"

"We're having a nice moment right now and you are trying  _really_   _hard_  to ruin it," Azazel sighed in mock frustration, prompting her to smile.

He studied her quietly for a moment before reaching over and putting his hand on her chin, tilting her face up. How many times in the past seventeen years did he look into Clarice's eyes, which still reflected traces of the same childlike wonder as the day he and Raven rescued her? Now, instead of a little girl sitting across from him, there was a grown woman expressing her own hopes, dreams, and desires. It was like he'd blinked and the child who'd been his shadow had grown up and somehow he'd missed it. Azazel grinned as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Clarice, I am  _proud_  of you. I have always been proud of you, since you were little. You are now an  _incredible_  young woman, and I will stand behind you no matter what," he smiled, before holding up a finger, "but, I still think you should grow you hair longer again."

Without warning, she lunged forward, forcing Freddy to scramble out of the way. She knocked Azazel backwards, practically ending up in his lap as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his chest.

"I love you, Big Brother." She hugged him fiercely. At first Azazel was too surprised to respond, but after a moment he hugged her tightly, relishing the love and security she had thrust into his life.

"I love you too, Little Sister."

_Azazel? Clarice?_

Azazel looked down when he heard Charles's voice echo in his mind. From the look on Clarice's face, he knew she'd hear the man speaking too.

_Could you both come down to my office? There's something you need to see._


	58. Surprise

From all the years she'd fought by his side, Clarice had learned to read Azazel like a book. The instant the two appeared in the Professor's office, she sensed him tense for a fight and quickly followed suit.

Something was  _wrong_.

The office was dark -  _too dark_  - and no one was there to greet them. Clarice bit her lip as she peered into the empty room's shadows. She knew the Professor has said his  _office_ , and that Azazel wouldn't have teleported them elsewhere by accident.  _But where the hell is the Professor? And why's it so dark?_  She turned to ask Azazel when suddenly...

" _SURPRISE!_ "

Blinding light flooded the room as the double-doors open across the way burst open. Both mutants jumped back in alarm. In a heartbeat, Azazel drew his short sword while his other hand jutted protectively in front of Clarice, ready to push her behind him. While she'd stopped wearing her own weapons, she instinctively pulled a crystal and her trusty pocket knife, clutching both tightly in her fists, ready for whatever was to come.

But she and Azazel weren't under  _attack_ ; breathing hard, Clarice scanned the silhouetted assailants only to see friends and family, all of whom appeared to be laughing at the pair's spooked reaction.

She saw Wanda and Peter, both giggling madly; a smiling Raven with her arms around Kurt, who had a balloon tied to his tail; Scott and Jean, James and Lucas, Jubilee and many others; even Erik, Ororo and Warren were present, holding drinks and grinning. Rainbows of streamers twisted down from the ceiling and across the walls, and Clarice saw more balloons, colorful confetti, and tables of food and drinks behind them. It looked like quite a party, but for  _what_ , Clarice didn't know.

" _What's_ going on?" She whispered in Russian as she lowered her knife, before shooting Azazel a bewildered look. "It is your  _birthday_  or something?"

"Like I know what day  _that_  is," he whispered back, rolling his eyes. She silently chided herself for asking such a  _stupid_  question; she wasn't even sure why she asked, seeing that neither of them actually knew when their birthdays fell. Clarice turned back to the crowd, still perplexed and not budging from her position, when for the first time she noticed two empty funerary caskets propped open at the far end of the room.

_Caskets?_

Her eyes widened in shock and this time Azazel raised a concerned eyebrow at her.

_Something was definitely wrong._

"Ok, what the  _actual_  fuck is going on?" Clarice demanded loudly in English, making the assembled crowd burst into rancorous laughter.

"My dear, it's a  _surprise_  party!" Her eyes then landed on the Professor, who'd  _finally_  emerged from the group of guests. While the others broke off to mingle and start the party, the Professor wheeled towards her and Azazel. He was followed by Moira, clutched two thick manila file folders to her chest. She was smiling.

"For _what?_ " Azazel asked skeptically as he sheathed his sword.

"For your  _funerals!_ Surprise: you're both  _dead!_ " Moira laughed and held out a file folder to each mutant. Clarice frowned as she reluctantly took one.

" _What_  are you talking...?" Azazel started, but the agent merely motioned for him to look into his folder. Clarice flipped open her file, scanning the thick stack of paperwork inside. She wasn't sure what she was looking at; the first page was an autopsy report, the second seemed like hit stats, not unlike the kind she and Azazel got before a job, and the third... she gasped audibly when she saw a photo of  _herself._ Underneath the photo was a list of personal information: birthday date, height, weight, alias, strengths, weaknesses, marital status, and...  _deceased?_

She glanced up as soon she read that, searching Moira's face for an answer, but the agent continued to smile happily.

"I'm...  _dead_?" Clarice shook her head. Next to her, Azazel was skimming his own file with a pensive look on his face. She peaked over and saw a photo of him, and a similar stats sheet. "I don't understand...?"

"These are copies of  _official_  CIA files. See, right here," Moira tapped on an item further down the list. Clarice looked down and read the following: ' _Operative terminated by Agent Levine in Kiev munitions factory; gunshot directly to heart'_  stamped with recent date. If she was reading it correctly, then according to this file, Clarice had died in the Ukraine just under a week ago. She looked back up, waiting for more clarification. Moira shrugged.

"As far as the world is concerned, Clarice and Azazel  _are_  dead. We've already made sure our double-agent got the files in front of the right KGB bosses. You're both dead to the KGB, which means they won't come looking for you. As long as you don't run around the East or accidentally become  _famous_ ," she shot a sly smile at Raven, "then you're  _safe_ , and you both can live relatively normal lives here in America."

Clarice closed her file and handed it back to Moira without uttering a sound. The enormity of the agent's words hit her hard, and made her feel almost dizzy with the possibilities. Death in the East meant life in the West; no more hiding or fear that the KGB was going to hunt them down or hurt their loved ones. Clarice was free to be with Peter, she was free to be an aunt to Kurt and sister to Raven, and she was free to live on American soil. She felt her heart soar, and she suddenly wanted to laugh and cry all at once. She lunged forward and hugged Moira tightly, at a loss for words to express her gratitude.

Azazel, on the other hand, was scowling.

" _This?"_ He glared at Moira, angrily tapping on his file. "This is how _I_  die?"

"I always promised I'd be the one to kill you," Moira said as she pulled back from Clarice's hug. She crossed her arms, and smirked at the red mutant.

"This is _embarrassing!_ " Clarice tried to peek into Azazel's file but he snapped it closed, shooting her a look of pure murder.  _On second thought,_ she smiled and held up her hands as she stepped away from him, _maybe I'll just ask Moira later_.

"And  _that_ ," Moria said, snatching Azazel's file back, "is for dropping me outside that club a few years back. I broke my tailbone, you know."

"Maybe I should have broken your..."

" _Anyways_ ," the Professor quickly interrupted, stopping the little stare down between the two former foes, "you both just need new names and you're all set!"

"New names?" Clarice puzzled.

"Well, you'll always be Clarice and Azazel to us," he assured.

"But you'll both need different  _legal_  names to keep consistent with your files," Moira added, holding out pen and paper. "And with new names, the CIA can issue you passports, birth certificates, and everything else you'll need to become legal American citizens."

"Raven and Mama Margali thought maybe you'd both like to take the family name  _Wagner_ ," Kurt chimed in, smiling wide enough to show his fangs. "That way we could at least three of us would have the same last name."

"So really, you just need new first names, and..." Raven trailed off as Clarice quickly snatched the pen and paper from Moira.

" _There!_ " She announced with a flourish of ink. She smiled at her handwriting before handing back the paperwork back. "That should take care if it."

"Ladies and gentelmen, allow me to introduce..." Moira studied the writing. " _Tien_  and  _Tuan_  Wagner!"

" _Tein_  and  _Tuan?_ " Azazel looked at her for a moment before shaking his head. "How do you think of these things?"

"I guess I always just liked those names," Clarice shrugged. From the corner of her eye, she saw Kurt clasp his hands together and gasp. She winked at him.

"Well, which am I?" Azazel asked. Clarice laughed and playfully linked her arm though his pulling him towards the decorated room.

"Come on  _Tuan;_ I do believe there's a  _party_ in our honor!"

* * *

 _It's a good party if I do say so myself_ , Charles thought smugly as he surveyed the room. Azazel and Clarice had successfully been surprised, and unlike Raven's ominous prediction earlier, no one had been stabbed. He knew part of his success lay in keeping both his nephew and Peter in the dark until just before the surprise; neither young man was good at keeping secrets, even if they didn't mean to accidentally spoil anyone's fun. At present, the guests of honor were surrounded by friends and loved ones, and enjoying the official start of their new Western lives. Charles smiled as Azazel picked-up a protesting Clarice and playfully dropped her into one of the caskets. Charles would have to ask the girl some day about her choice of those new names; for privacy he didn't read her mind, but he couldn't stop the rush of intense love and admiration he felt as she scribbled  _Tien_  and  _Tuan_  on the paperwork. There was a story there, if Clarice felt like sharing it with him.

The telepath moved around the room, greeting everyone and laughing at his students' antics, until he found himself next to Peter. The speedster was no longer stuck in a cumbersome leg cast; he was seated with his leg propped up, happily watching the festivities unfold. Both Maximoff children had returned to the school just a few days before; Wanda to settle in before starting classes in two weeks and Peter for daily physical therapy. It took Charles a month to convince Mrs. Maximoff to allow him to hire and pay for a therapist at Westchester so Peter could be at the school while recovering. The young man still couldn't stand or walk for extended periods of time, but his forced inactivity had one positive outcome: a stationary Peter had plenty of opportunity to study for his upcoming General Education Development test so he could attain a high school diploma and continue on to college.

"Are you excited about taking your GED test?" Charles asked as he opened a bottle of beer.

"Excited isn't the word for it, man; I'm  _elated!"_ Peter's entire face lit up as he spoke. "I thought I was a lost cause after flunking out of high school, but being here and finally learning how to control my mutation has been a real  _game-changer_. I'm actually  _stoked_  about sitting still and taking a test, and I never thought I'd say that!"

"That's fantastic to hear Peter," he happily agreed. "Have you given thought yet to a possible career path?"

"Yeah," the young man nodded, his silver hair bobbing. "I wanna be a social worker."

"A  _social worker?"_ Charles glanced up to find Erik standing over them, holding out a beer bottle for Peter. The metal bender sipped his own drink and sat down nearby. He studied his son for a quiet moment. "That's  _interesting_. What makes you want to study that?"

"Working with Danielle and the little kiddos here made me realize just how hard it is for mutant children in foster care. If I'm a social worker, then I could help get those kids into places like Westchester or at least mutant-friendly families and really make a  _difference_ ," the silver-haired youth surmised. He paused to take a sip of his drink. "I mean, when I turned twelve and suddenly things started to speed-up and the silver hair popped up, I didn't know  _what_  was happening. It was super confusing and scary and I didn't have anyone to talk to about it. I'm lucky Mom eventually realized something was  _wrong_ , but accepted me for who I became anyways, but it was still a real struggle for a while. That's why I wanted to get Wanda here as soon as I could convince Mom to let me; I didn't want her to fail out of school like I did because of things she couldn't control."

"I should have been there for you," Erik frowned, fiddling with his drink. "I wasn't there when it mattered, for you or your mother."

" _Aww_ , come on Dad!" Peter smiled widely. "You're here  _now_ , and you totally came to our aid when we needed you in Egypt, and  _that_  matters. And, Mom isn't even slapping you anymore! She actually  _almost_  tolerates you around the house!"

Charles quietly took his leave, smiling as he wheeled away to give the two privacy to talk. The telepath was pleased that Erik elected to stay, and that he and Peter were starting to make real father-son connections. He hadn't worked up the courage to ask Erik to stay on as a teacher at the school, but that conversation would come soon enough. The metal bender had at least accepted one of the cabins on the school grounds for the time being, so he could be closer to his son.

But, there was something else on Charles' mind at present. He set his sights on the auburn-haired beauty leaning against the wall, chatting with Hank and nursing a glass of wine.

 _Moira MacTaggert_.

Charles felt his heart beat a touch faster as he approached her. Nothing had happened between the two since he gave Moira her memories back. They'd actually barely seen one another since, but not due to avoidance; they'd both had their hands full since leaving Munich. Charles knew Moira needed time and privacy for her son and her career, and he'd respected that, letting her set the pace for their interactions. When she started visiting Westchester a few days a week to meet with Azazel, he had done his best not to read her mind or emotions when he did see her.

Hank politely excused himself when Charles arrived. The scientist gave him a small, knowing smile as he walked away.

"So," Charles nodded cordially at Moria, "have you given consideration to my offer?"

"You're asking a  _lot_  from me," Moira sighed. "Give up the CIA to teach, move to Westchester, and enroll Kevin in a brand new school?"

"But it's for such a good cause!" He argued. "You're bored at the CIA and this would be a wonderful school for your son. You'd be teaching mutant biology and evolution alongside Hank. Besides, you always  _wanted_  to be a teacher, and this way..."

"Did I ever actually  _tell_  you that I wanted to be a teacher?" Moira asked with a perked eyebrow. Charles opened his mouth but stopped and blushed deeply; his telepathy had gotten the better of him on that front. Luckily, Moira laughed off his embarrassment.

"Besides Charles, you haven't even given me a tour of your new school yet!" She added, drinking the rest of her wine. She set the empty glass down and crossed her arms loosely. "How am I supposed to decide if I want to live here if I haven't even  _seen_  it?"

"Well, it's still being built," Charles quickly assured. "Right now it's mostly common areas and the student dorms, and my private living quarters on the first floor. There's really not much to see; but in a few days we'll have finished the teacher's accommodations and the cafeteria, and Hank's still working on..."

"Wait, you said your  _private_  living quarters are completed?" She interrupted.

"Yes, they were among the first to be finished."

"Does that include your  _bedroom_?"

"Yes, but I don't see what that..." Charles trailed off as Moira arched her eyebrow suggestively and bit her bottom lip. "Oh!" He blurted out, nearly spitting his drink on accident when her insinuation sunk in.

_Oh, indeed.  
_

"Well my dear," Charles offered her his most charming smile and extended his arm. "Let's go on a little school  _tour_ , shall we?"

"Sounds...  _groovy_ ," Moira answered, laughing as she accepted.

* * *

Kurt felt warm and fuzzy and happy all over as he looked around the room. The party was a  _huge_  hit, and he'd had a blast decorating all afternoon with his friends. No one had even told him about the party until just before it started. Wanda knocked on the door of Kurt and Scott's new dorm room, saying she needed their help with some special project, and Uncle Charles filled Kurt in on the rest when he saw the mountain of party supplies in the office. The indigo teen wasn't upset that no one told him about the surprise for his dad and aunt; Kurt knew he wasn't exactly the best at keeping secrets.  _Besides_ , he thought as he sipped his soda and watched Peter and Mr. Lehnsherr,  _no one told Peter until about five minutes before the surprise._ If Kurt was really bad at keeping secrets, Peter was  _spectacularly_  bad.

He was thrilled that after tonight, Azazel and Clarice didn't have to hide anymore. He and Clarice could finally see Times Square like they talked about, and maybe they'd convince Azazel to take them. It was awesome that Ms. MacTaggert arranged for American citizenships for the pair, since they couldn't be Russian anymore. Even Kurt didn't have a citizenship, although he was considering applying for one after he finished school. He really liked America, and it was way more mutant friendly than Europe. He'd almost started crying when Clarice chose the "new" names Tien and Tuan; Kurt knew that his dad didn't know the real significance behind those names, but Kurt did from when Clarice consoled him after the Danger Room incident. He couldn't think of a more touching tribute for his aunt to honor her brother by having his name live on as Azazel's new American name. Those names made them family for  _real_ , as far as Kurt was concerned.

 _Speaking of family_... Kurt glanced over at his mom and dad chatting with Dr. McCoy, smiling as he noticed Azazel's arm looped gracefully around Raven's waist. There was something about Raven that brought out a softer side to Azazel, one Kurt had never seen before. Sure, Azazel had always been super nice even before Kurt knew who he really was, but the man had never been an affectionate person. His dad was still fairly reserved, and while the teen could always see the pride and fierce devotion in his gestures and actions, it was Raven who really made Azazel melt. Just a few weeks ago when Kurt teleported into his cabin bedroom to change into swim shorts, he'd heard his mom and dad laughing loudly from the main room. He'd secretly peeked through a crack in the door only to find Azazel - still sweaty from his morning run - playfully chasing Raven in circles around the dining table. He had a boyish grin on his face and his tail was wagging just like Kurt's did when played a game. From what Kurt could see, Azazel was threatened to grab Raven while he was still sweaty, and she was snapping a towel at him and laughingly yelling for him to go take a shower. Kurt left them in their play, smiling at his parents' goofy antics. He was happy they'd reconnected; it was so much better than when they first came to Westchester.

School started up again in just two weeks, but first, Azazel promised to take the family to Tahiti for a few days, now that his teleporting was back to normal. Kurt watched his mom's eyes lit up in a funny way when his dad announced their destination at dinner the night before. Kurt was really looking forward to the trip; he'd never been to Tahiti, even though his dad said that Kurt had been but was just 'too little' to remember it (earning Azazel an eye roll from his mom). Either way, he was stoked about spending time in the tropics with his family, and Clarice even promised to teach him how to surf.

"Here you go!" Wanda said as she held out a glass of punch, pulling Kurt out of his thoughts. He couldn't help himself; as he took the glass, he reached out with his free hand to tuck a wave of her maroon hair behind her ears. Wanda looked positively  _radiant._ Her silver dress matched her eyes and her sapphire necklace sparkled like a starlit sky. Kurt still wanted to pinch himself that he was dating the most beautiful girl in the school, and that she loved him. Wanda smiled and held up her own glass, clinking it against his in a cheer.

Kurt couldn't be any happier than he was right now.

* * *

_Several Hours Later..._

"Well, I had  _good_ life," Azazel announced with a hiccup to no one in particular, using his beer bottle to make an encompassing motion to the room. All around him, the remaining guests were draped over chairs or sprawled out on the floor, most sound asleep. The red mutant hiccuped again and smiled as he looked down at Kurt and Scott innocently curled up next one another, both snoring away. The girls had been smart and gone to their rooms a while ago, but the boys wanted to stay on to party. He was pretty sure they lasted another twenty minutes before falling asleep. Azazel glanced around, but he had no idea where Charles had disappeared to, or  _Moira_  now that he thought about it.  _Last I saw them, they were walking out of the room together..._  that sudden realization made his lip curl harder.  _Wherever they are_ , he thought,  _I hope their having fun_. Over the last few weeks Moira and Azazel had been working closely together, and the red mutant had grown rather fond of the CIA agent. She was witty and sharp, and he could easily see her and Charles very happy together. Shortly after Charles left, Scott and Jubilee liberated a case of beer, and in a party-going mood, Hank turned a blind eye as long as the teens were responsible. Looking around the room, Azazel was sure there'd be plenty of hangovers to sleep off tomorrow, but it was well-worth it. The party had been great fun, and he suspected everyone needed something to officially celebrate now that life was slowly returning to normal at Westchester.

Something shifted against Azazel, drawing his attention. Raven yawned and laid her hand on his chest to make a pillow, and resettled against him. Azazel put his arm around her, and she was snoring quietly again in no time. The coffin was tight fit for two, but it wasn't uncomfortable. When Charles called him and Clarice into his office earlier, Azazel never would have guessed that a few hours later he'd end up drunk and sitting in his own casket. Westchester was proving to be a surprising place, to say the least.

 _And I died, just like Margali predicted_. Azazel shook his head and drained the last of his beer. He had to laugh at that one. There'd be no living it down once he told Margali that her premonition came true.  _Clairvoyant, indeed._

"I think I'm going to like being an  _American_ , Big Brother," Clarice hiccuped from her own coffin next to his. Azazel grinned as he looked over. She was positively giddy, and her emerald eyes practically glowing. Peter was in a chair next to her casket, slumped against it and drooling on his shoulder. She reached down and tousled his shaggy hair affectionately. In spite of his lingering hang-ups about the speedster, Azazel could see that the boy had fallen hard for Clarice, and treated her like a queen. He wasn't ready to admit it out loud, but he was happy they'd found happiness in each other.

Clarice giggled and reached across the gap, extending her fingers towards him. Her bright eyes glistened with love and hope and happiness. He smiled back; they'd been through so much together over the last seventeen years, and now, with their  _entire_  family, they would face the future together too.  _And what a future it will be,_ Azazel thought happily as he took her hand in his, squeezing it affectionately.

"I think I will  _too_ , Little Sister."


	59. Epilogue

**_Northern Westchester Hospital - 1989 (5 Years Later)_  
**

"Kurt,  _breathe_." Azazel ordered as he put his arm around Kurt's shoulders. The indigo young man turned towards his father with wide, panicked eyes. He felt like he was on the verge of hyperventilating, or throwing up -  _again -_ but Azazel only smiled encouragingly, and took a deep breath as if to illustrate his command. "Come, with me:  _breathe_."

Kurt took a few deep breaths as the pair slowly ambled around the waiting room. Upon releasing it, Azazel grinned and gave Kurt an enthusiastic pat on his back. It was enough to send the young man careening towards the floor, stiff as a board. Luckily, a silver blur zoomed in and caught Kurt by his tail seconds before his face hit the ground.

" _Whoa!_  Easy there, Elf!" Peter said as Azazel helped haul Kurt back onto his feet. He was positively shaking at this point, and felt like his knees would buckle again at any moment. Just over Peter's shoulder, Kurt watched his mother frown as she approached.

"Maybe you should take a  _seat_?" Raven suggested, and Azazel helped her guide Kurt to a nearby couch. The sapphire woman sat next to him, rubbing his shoulder sympathetically. Kurt covered his face with his hands, and tried to remind himself to breathe. He still felt dizzy, even sitting.

"He's alright; he's just  _nervous._ " Peter assessed with a friendly smile. "I totally get it,  _Brah_. I was just as nervous when  _my_  daughter was born."

"Peter, we  _adopted_  Luna," Clarice said, glancing up from her book. She arched a quizzical eyebrow at him. "She was  _three_  when you met her for the first time."

"Yeah, but I was still super nervous on adoption day. I mean, I was going to be a  _dad!_ " Kurt watched as Peter thumbed in his general direction. "Look, I'm just trying to help out my  _brother-in-law_  over here. Or is he my  _nephew-in-law_?" The speedster frowned and turned towards Azazel. "I mean, I know  _you're_  my brother-in-law, but..."

"Do  _nyet_  remind me."

"... did we ever figure out how we're all related?"

"We're  _family_ ," Mama Margali chimed in, "and  _that_  is all that matters." The gypsy turned her attention back to the blanket she was knitting. Peter slung his arm around Azazel's shoulders in a good-natured way, and while Azazel rolled his eyes, he didn't push Peter away. Kurt knew that his dad was making an effort not to kill the speedster, which he greatly appreciated. Luckily for Azazel, Clarice patted the seat next to her and in a flash, Peter was once again holding hands with his wife. Azazel moved to stand behind Raven and Kurt.

"Who wants coffee?" The double doors across the way swung open just as a voice sang out happily. Kurt looked up to see his Uncle Charles and Aunt Moira appear, carrying trays of hot coffee. His little cousin Kevin - now a _teenager_ , as hard to believe as that was - started handing out the Styrofoam cups to everyone. Kurt waved the coffee away; if he drank anymore caffeine, he was pretty sure his heart would explode.

"So how's it going? Any  _news_?" Uncle Charles asked as he wheeled next to the blue mutants.

" _Nein_ , not yet," Margali answered. She then motioned to Kurt with her chin. "This one passed out, so Dr. McCoy made him come out here to have a break."

"I shouldn't have  _looked_ ," Kurt grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut. He loved Wanda, but he doubted he'd ever be able to un-see what he'd just saw in the delivery room. Kurt thanked St. Gerard Majella - the patron saint of childbirth - that Dr. McCoy and Jean were still with Wanda. Jean was now a third year medical student, and her telepathy might be the only thing keeping the hospital from burning down as Wanda's contractions grew more intense.

" _See?_  I  _told_  you." Aunt Moira smirked as she playfully punched his uncle's shoulder. Balanced on her hip was Kurt's other cousin David, who squirmed for his mother to put him down. She obliged, and the three year quickly toddled towards to Azazel, who was already waiting for him with open arms.

"Uncle Zaz,  _look!_ " David beamed proudly, holding up a toy firetruck. "Same color!" Kurt watched with David, making a big show of being impressed by the toy, much to boy's delight.

"That one is going to be  _great_  with a baby," Mama Margali smiled and shook her head.

"Yeah, it's kinda frightening how good he is with children," Clarice added with a laugh. Kurt's adopted cousin Luna was rather fond of Azazel as well, once she got over her initial shyness. Kurt always figured that since his father never got to have a real childhood, the man found interacting with little ones to be great fun, and much like Kurt, he liked how children quickly looked past his physical mutation and accent. Azazel had confided in Kurt once that in a lot of ways, children made him feel less like an outsider than most well-meaning adults.

"Alright, folks!" A doctor appeared in the doorway, clapping her hands to get everyone's attention. Kurt immediately felt the blood drain from his face. "Mrs. Wagner is fully dilated and ready to go. Now, we can only have two additional people in the room with her, and..." she paused to survey the assembly of mutants in the waiting room, "well, I'm not sure who... um, how are you all  _related_  to Mrs. Wagner?"

"Husband!" Kurt practically yelled, raising his hand.

"Brother!" Peter chimed in. "Probably the  _best_  older brother in the world."

"Sister-in-law!" Clarice added before sticking her tongue out at her husband. "Get in line behind Azazel, Peter."

"Father-in-law," Azazel said proudly, balancing David on his hip.

"Mother-in-law," Raven squeezed Kurt's shoulders lovingly.

"Mother-in-law," Mama Margali added from where she sat. The doctor furrowed her brow, but the gypsy merely shrugged. "We're an  _unusual_  family."

"I'm her uncle-in-law," Charles laughed. "If that's even a thing?"

"And I guess that makes me her aunt-in-law," Moira said, putting her hand over Charles's. She smiled loving at her husband.

" _Mother!_ " A woman's voice out shown them all, making the entire group swivel to face the waiting room's entrance. A rather disheveled Mrs. Maximoff was standing in the doorway, holding a box wrapped in festive paper and ribbons.

"Mom! You  _made_  it!" Peter zoomed over and hugged her. "Oh man! I tried calling the house but you didn't answer, and then I was going to run over, but I was afraid I'd miss everything, and so..."

"It seems I beat you too it," Erik appeared behind Kurt's mother-in-law, holding hands with Luna.

"Mommy!" The little girl dropped Erik's hand and ran towards Clarice, launching herself into her arms.

"I hope it's alright that I bought her," Erik nodded at Luna. "I drove Magda as soon as Charles contacted us and Luna wouldn't hear of staying at home with her  _boring old Opa_  when there's a brand new cousin on the way."

"You're not  _boring_  Opa!" Luna protested. "You let me stay up past my bedtime and have ice cream for dinner!" Clarice raised an eyebrow at Erik, who was now pinching the bridge of his nose. Nearby, Peter was laughing.

"Mrs. Maximoff? Mr. Wagner?" The doctor tapped on her watch. "Baby Wagner isn't going to wait much longer."

" _Ja_ , right!" Kurt took a deep breath and stood. He turned to face his family, who were a sea of thumbs up and positive gestures. "Um, alright. See you on the  _other side_ , I guess?"

Mrs. Maximoff offered Kurt her hand. Taking it, Kurt turned and followed the doctor towards his future.

* * *

Five years brought a lot of changes for the inhabitants of Westchester County, New York.

Marriage had been one of them: Charles and Moira, one year after reconnecting in Egypt. Kurt and Wanda, three years after that as soon as they both turned twenty-one, and Clarice and Peter as well in a joint wedding. The "Wagner-Maximoff Wedding" - as it had been dubbed - had been a grand affair, with Charles surprising the four newlyweds by arranging for the entire Munich Circus to make an guest appearance at the reception. There had been fire dancers, jugglers, tightrope walkers and all kinds of performers to entertain the guests, which happened to include the  _entire_  school.

Magda Maximoff walked Wanda down the aisle, and Azazel escorted Clarice. Both the Russians thought the entire ceremony was a bit over the top (marriage in Russia was really just signing paperwork, then getting really drunk with your beloved; neither mutant understood the "whole walking down the aisle, white dress" thing, but obliged for the sake of everyone else). Later, Azazel asked Raven if she was sad they hadn't had a grand, American-style wedding, but the blue women assured that if they could go back in time, she'd married him the same all over again. That was enough for him. The two colorful mutants were known to occasionally disappear for a few days or weeks from school grounds; Charles never asked where they went, but it wasn't uncommon for the pair to return with a new student in tow who'd been plunked from some unfortunate circumstance abroad. Raven never stopped crusading for mutant rights, and now with Azazel back at her side, they could be a team once again.

The others had also faired well: Scott and Jean were engaged and planning to wed as soon as Jean finished medical school. Jubilee started her own fashion business, specializing in designing clothing for mutants with physical mutations. It all started the day she arrived early to fight class and found Azazel sewing clothing for Kurt and asked him to teach her; a week later she modified a button down shirt for Warren, who's wings made wearing stylish clothing difficult. His gratitude inspired Jubilee to start her own business, which Charles gladly gave her the seed money for as soon as she graduated. She partnered with Ororo, who was in charge of operations, and together the two women were taking the New York fashion scene by storm.

Jubilee wasn't the only one to become her own boss; as soon as Clarice finished her culinary program, she opened a small, made-to-order Vietnamese sandwich shop in Brooklyn.  _'Fastest subs in the city,'_  was the slogan Peter devised, and for the first year of operation, Peter was the delivery boy in between his classes. Since they'd returned from their Tahitian honeymoon, Peter had started his career as a social worker, networking with area hospitals to get both human and mutant children alike into loving foster homes and schools. Clarice now employed Warren as her head delivery boy, and as an added bonus, his flights through the city acted as free advertising. Business really couldn't be better.

Kurt won a scholarship to study at Columbia University in New York City, and he was currently working towards his teaching degree in theology. Wanda, on the other hand, surprised everyone by joining the Avengers in lieu of going to college. Her time in Egypt battling En Sabah Nur inspired her deeply; upon returning to Westchester, she worked hard to master her powers and push her limits. Her abilities caught the eye of one Mr. Tony Stark, a family friend of Charles, while he was visiting the school. He offered Wanda a spot on the team, which she'd taken with great enthusiasm. Luckily for the young lovers, Kurt had grown quite apt at teleporting under Azazel's guidance, and visiting Wanda had been easy as long as she wasn't too far away.

Things were going as well as could be expected for the mutants of Westchester county. And then came something no one expected, at least not so soon: Baby Talia.

* * *

"See Talia? That's your  _family._ " Kurt whispered, holding his newborn daughter securely in his arms. She was so much smaller than he anticipated, and so much more wonderful than he'd dared to hope. Her skin was a bright blue, a few shades lighter than her grandmother's, but her hair was jet black, just like Kurt's and her grandfather's. Kurt could see so much of himself and Wanda in the little girl's face, and from her button nose to her spaded tail, Kurt felt like he could look at his daughter forever and never grow tired of it. Smiling, he turned and held her up carefully. Behind the nursery's glass wall stood a small crowd, all smiling and waving at Westchester's newest resident.

"The red man, he's your grandfather Azazel," Kurt whispered and pointed, "and next to him is your grandmother Raven; you actually look a lot like her. The silver-haired guy is your Uncle Peter and next to him is your Aunt Clarice, and she's holding hands with your cousin Luna, who can't wait to meet you. Then there's your other two grandmothers, Margali and Magda." Kurt shifted the baby in his arms. "And there's your Great-Uncle Charles and your Great-Aunt Moira, and my cousins Kevin and David, and you met Jean already, but back at home there's Scott, Warren, Jubilee, and Ororo, who will all be like family to you."

He paused to look back down at his daughter. For the first time she blinked open her eyes - her beautiful, silver eyes, the same color as her mother's - and wrapped her tail around wrist. 

"There are  _so many_  people who can't wait to love you." Kurt brushed away a tear as he rocked Talia to sleep. "But, we'll worry about what you should call everyone when you start  _talking_ , Ok?"

**THE END**

* * *

_A/N: And that, ladies & gentlemen, is the conclusion of "Monsters." I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it. Ending a story is always a bittersweet moment; while I am happy to see the story to its end, I'm sad because it's over. I fell in love with this little tale and the characters in it.  
_

_I want to wholeheartedly thank everyone who took the time to read "Monsters," and a special thanks to everyone who left kudos or comments. I tried my best to personally respond to let you know how awesome you made me feel!  
_

_At its heart, "Monsters" had two very important themes: what it feels like to be an outsider (aka, a monster) and what it means to be a real family. We have three mutants at the heart of the tale - Azazel, Raven, and Kurt - all of whom have been called monsters based on their appearance. We have Azazel who embraces it, using his devilish looks for intimidation in his line of work; we have Raven who runs from it, hiding her true skin while rescuing other "monstrous-looking" mutants; and we have Kurt who accepts his fangs and tail, and is more concerned about not having muscles like Scott than having a physical mutation. Now, add in the family element: we have Azazel and Raven, who were a family to each other and looking forward to having children before they were torn apart; we have Raven abandoning Kurt, thinking she doesn't deserve a family after leaving Charles and then losing Azazel; we have Clarice and Azazel forming their own family, fiercely loyal to one another; and we have Kurt, who has an adopted family in Germany but still yearns to belong to a real mutant family. We also have the family that makes up the school at Westchester, which ultimately interweave with Kurt, Raven, and Azazel's lives._

_In the end, everyone is brought together by Talia: she is the daughter, granddaughter, second-cousin and niece that creates a living, breathing bond between all our characters, uniting the entire family by the tale's end._

_If you liked reading "Monsters," let me know with a kudos or comment. I've got a another in-progress story on this site called "Allegiance," which I am pretty excited to write. It's much more graphic and features some adult scenes/slash, and it posts every other week. Please visit my author page to read the summary and see if that's something for you._

_And as always: thank you, thank you, thank you! :)_


	60. BONUS: "Monsters Moments" Collection

**New Chapter Collection: "Monsters Moments"**

Author's Note: Hello, dear readers! Many of you have asked about my future writing plans, so I wanted to alert everyone who followed "Monsters" to a new collection I'm posting called "Monsters Moments." These chapters are collections of shorts/one-shots that didn't make the final cut of "Monsters." The decision for a writer to omit scenes is never easy; I love all the little moments and interactions that give heart & soul to my characters. But, my plan to align "Monsters" with the film "X-Men Apocalypse" meant that some of these scenes didn't quite fit in with my overall storyboard. Many of these vignettes are also domestic and everyday (my personal favorite) instead of action, so I felt they may have detracted too much from the exciting sequences and pacing of the main story. Lastly, some of these little moments came to me while I was writing "Monsters" as a reason for why characters behave/believe the way they do; I often imagined some moment in their childhood that shaped the adult the grew into, and part of me really wanted to tell that story or scene, but it wouldn't have worked in "Monsters."

Therefore, I present: "Monsters Moments." All characters and timeline are "Monsters" cannon, and I will give chapter references where appropriate. Each "chapter" will be a different short/one-shot, and they are not sequential; some might happen before "Monsters" begins and some after it ends (in the future). I am still turning all these little scenes into full one-shot stories, so posting might be erratic, but I will try my best to give you something new every two weeks until I run out of scenes. Also, I always consider reader prompts/requests! Give a shout out in a comment or shoot me a DM and we'll chat. I can't promise I'll write your idea, but readers/reviews do inspire my writing.

As always, I hope you enjoy reading these little scenes as much as I enjoy writing them :)


	61. Thanks for Giving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Kurt's first Thanksgiving with his mutant family, and he's determined to experience this uniquely America holiday to its fullest. Unfortunately, frozen turkeys, arguments over football, and general mishaps are threatening to derail the whole thing. This scene takes place after "Monsters" Chapter 57 and during family's first year in America. 
> 
> Warning: The below scene contains major spoilers for the story "Monsters." If you don't like spoilers, then please read "Monsters" first before reading this (which you should have already). Thanks!

_**The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, New York** _

"I've never cooked a  _turkey_  before. Or made... _stuffing? Cranberry sauce?_ " Clarice furrowed her brow as she flipped through the beaten copy of American Home Cooking that Kurt found in the library. There were so many foreign ingredients listed that she'd never heard of, let alone worked with.  _Or could even pronounce_.

" _Ooo_ , don't forget  _pumpkin pie!_ " Peter added as he tapped the last nail into the wall. He stepped back to admire the  _Rush_  poster he'd hung for her. A second later, he was sitting on her bed, his arm slung around her shoulders. "Pumpkin pie is the  _best_  part of dinner."

"Mom's  _kolatczkis_  are way better that Aunt Lorna's pie," Wanda argued from the floor, where she sat next to Kurt.

" _No_  way!"

" _Yeah_  way!"

"Kurt, I'm not sure about this," Clarice ignored the Maximoffs sparring and put the book down. She was still getting used to making American recipes, and here Kurt was asking her to cook an  _entire_  holiday dinner. A  _traditional_  American dinner, at that.

"But we can _try!_  You're  _amazing_  in the kitchen; how hard can it be?" Her nephew looked up from where he lay on his stomach, legs up and tail wagging in the air. He blinked, all wide-eyed and innocent. She shook her head and picked-up the cookbook again. Kurt was nearly impossible to say  _no_  to, especially when he was this excited about something and  _especially_  when he made  _that_  cute face. After chatting with Wanda about her family's upcoming holiday plans in Boston, Kurt got the  _brilliant_  idea that the Wagner-Darkhölme family should also celebrate the traditional American holiday at Westchester, especially since it was the first year Clarice and Azazel were technically  _Americans_. Of course, she and Azazel never celebrated such holidays; actually, Clarice couldn't remember the last time the two celebrated anything like a calendar holiday. The siblings had their own private anniversaries, but nothing like this highly food-oriented event Kurt recently discovered. He and Wanda appeared at her bedroom door just twenty minutes ago, bursting with excitement and a cookbook. She'd humored Kurt - she always did - but now with Peter and Wanda chiming in with pointers and ideas, his little request was starting to spiral out of control. She had to rein his expectations.

"Ok, how about this: how many people will even be here for..." Clarice looked back at him. " _'Thanks for Giving'_? Is that what it's called?"

" _Thanksgiving_. Ok, let's see..." Kurt sat up and eagerly began counting. "There's mom, dad, me, and you, so that's four; then, there's Uncle Charles and Dr. McCoy, so that make six people -  _maybe_  seven if Dr. McCoy invites his lady friend Ms. Crocker - and you've cooked for four of us before. Six or seven isn't so bad, _right?_ "

 _Six or seven people really doesn't sound impossible_ , Clarice thought, pursing her lips.  _This might be..._

"Don't forget about Ororo and Warren!" Wanda held up two more fingers. "They don't have family here, so that's actually eight or nine people."

"Oh, and  _my_  dad!" Peter snapped his fingers and pointed at Clarice. "Mom said he's not allowed at the house for holidays. Well, not  _yet_ , anyways, so it'd be  _super rad_  if you invited him to dinner. He still raves about the last time you cooked for us at his cabin." Peter gave her a pleadingly, puppy-dog smile, making her groan. She couldn't say  _no_  to that face, either.

"And what about Alex and Scott?" Clarice asked, rubbing her forehead. "What are their plans?"

"I can ask Scott when I see him next period, and he'll..." Kurt paused and smacked his head. " _Oh!_  I almost forgot: Jean and Jubilee will be here for the weekend, so we should invite them, too."

"So, we're talking a potential menu for...  _fourteen people?!_ " Clarice looked incredulously at her nephew. "Honey, I've  _never_  cooked for  _that_  many people before. Before you and Raven, I really only ever made food for me and your dad, and God-only-knows Azazel will eat  _anything_."

"How much harder can cooking for a few more people be? You just  _increase_  the amount of food. I'll help, and I'm sure a few others will too." Kurt teleported onto her bed and grabbed her hands pleadingly. " _Please_ , Auntie Clarice? For me?"

" _Gah_ , fine!" Clarice resigned and Kurt erupted into a bright, toothy smile. She squeezed his hands. "Come on, let's go ask your uncle if we can use the school's kitchen before this gets even  _more_  out of hand. Besides, someone's got to  _pay_  for all this food."

* * *

" _Entschuldigen,_  Uncle Charles? May we come in?"

Charles glanced up from his lesson plans to see Kurt and Clarice standing in his office doorway. The latter was clutching a book to her chest, and Kurt was wringing his tail in both hands, a nervous habit that let Charles know immediately that his nephew wanted something.

"You're  _always_  welcome in my office, any time," he smiled warmly as he put his pen down and bade them to enter. Both took quickly took seats. The telepath could practically feel waves of excitement rolling off them. "Now, what seems to be on your minds?"

"So, I've been reading about  _American_  holidays, since we're in  _America_ , and my mom's  _American_  and so's my dad and aunt now kinda; I mean, I guess they are technically still  _Russian_  and  _Vietnamese_ , but you know what I mean, because Ms. MacTaggert got them  _American_  passports, which legally makes them  _Americans_ , and so..."

"Kurt,  _slow down_  and take a breath," Charles held up a hand. Kurt gave him a shy, lopsided smile and his cheeks flushed lavender, which in turn made the telepath smile. It was times like these that his nephew reminded Charles so very much of a teenage Raven when she'd been excited about something (usually something that would get them both grounded for a month) and tried to enlist Charles's help. "I can tell you want something, so lay it on me: what's your request?"

"I want to celebrate a  _real_   _American_  Thanksgiving: invite everyone staying here for the holiday, cook a big dinner, drink a bunch of wine..."

" _No drinking!_ " Charles interrupted sharply. He didn't want to sound like a  _stick-in-the-mud_ , but the telepath promised himself he'd  _never_   _again_  deal with the situation he'd encountered the morning after Azazel and Clarice's surprise party. Having one's own hangover was bad enough; telepathically dealing with hungover teens who raided the bar after he and Moira sneaked away ( _thank you,_   _Hank_ ) was so, so much  _worse_.

"... Ok, well then play football in the yard, make a wish on a wishbone, you know; the whole shebang!" Kurt described his idea in full, and Clarice filled in the gaps where necessary. The indigo teen ended his pitch with with his arms out wide like a showman, waiting for Charles' response. The telepath sat back and rubbed his chin as he mulled it over.

"We haven't hosted Thanksgiving here since your mother and I were teenagers," Charles mused. "The holiday's in two days, and it's  _a lot_  of work, perhaps a bit more than you realize." He looked evenly at Kurt, and the teen's smile faded a bit. Charles admired his nephew's determination and reckless enthusiasm, but this request seemed like quite an undertaking.

"Look, I'll menu plan and run the kitchen, and Kurt can organize the other activities," Clarice added, putting her hand on the boy's shoulder. "But, I'll need to use the school's kitchen to cook for such a large group. I'm sure some of the guests will volunteer to help me, too. And,  _maybe_  we need a little help  _paying_  for all the food. But other than that, how hard can it really be?"

" _Please_  Uncle Charles?" Kurt pleaded. "We'll do  _all_  the work and planning and cooking and washing dishes and  _whatever_  else is needed."

"Well in that case," Charles resigned with an easy smile. "Why not? It sounds like  _fun!_ "

* * *

"Have you lost your  _damn_  mind?" Raven moaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Across the kitchen table sat her brother, grinning like an idiot. The faint hum of the television echoed from the living room area, where Azazel was engrossed in some soap opera. He'd always been good about giving her and Charles privacy when her brother visited, even in their small cabin.  _Besides_ , Raven mused,  _there was no interrupting Azazel when he tuned into one of his stupid daytime shows._

"Oh come on," Charles argued playfully. "You remember how much fun Thanksgiving was when we were kids? Kurt just wants to have a similar experience."

"Charles,  _we_  had fun because your mother and step-father had a horde of  _hired help_  doing all the work. All we had to do was eat and play with your parents' friends' kids. We didn't have to  _cook_ , or  _wash_ dishes,  _plan_  activities or  _coordinate_  everyone's schedules. Kurt's talking about  _making_  an entire Thanksgiving dinner. That's a whole different story!"

"Making dinner? That does  _nyet_  sound like so big a deal." Azazel suddenly appeared in the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee and turned to face them, leaning against the sink. His tail twitched casually at his feet as he sipped his coffee.

"Yeah, normally it's not a big deal, except now we're talking about Kurt and Clarice  _making_  a dinner for... wait, how many, again?"

"Fourteen, assuming Hank's girlfriend joins us."

" _What?_  That's an  _army_!" Raven groaned. She loved her son's enthusiasm, but even with Clarice's help, the kid was getting in way over his head.

"I do  _nyet_  see problem. Clarice  _likes_  cooking, and is very good at it. Wants to go to  _special school_  for it, even. If she and Kurt want to make dinner for fourteen, let them. When someone offering to make me dinner, I am fine with this." Azazel shrugged.

"Oh,  _really_?" Raven eyed him warily. "You mean, like how you are fine with that  _every day_  of your life because you never make dinner?"

" _Nyet_  true!" The red mutant looked mildly affronted. He put down his mug and pointed at her. "I  _made_  dinner just last week. Remember? You were tired from work so I surprised you."

"You  _picked up_  Chinese take out," Raven rubbed her forehead. "For the last time, that doesn't count as  _making_  dinner!"

"There was  _nyet_  food, I made food appear,  _same_  difference!" The red man crossed his arms almost in challenge. Across the way, her brother shook his head and laughed.

"Don't you have a TV show to go watch?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

" _Nyet_ , is over for today."

"Did they figure out who the killer was yet?" Charles leaned forward, his elbows on the table and his interest clearly peaked. Azazel nodded vigorously, and Raven rolled her eyes.

" _Da_ , it was her cousin's long-lost  _twin_  brother!" he answered excitedly. "They only caught him because he wore eye patch on wrong eye."

"I  _knew_  it!"

" _Zaz?_ " Raven said, made a shooing motion. Catching her hint, the red man smirked and grabbed his coffee mug. A second later, tendrils of red and black smoke marked where her husband once stood.

"So, back to this  _fiasco_  you authorized..." She started, waving the smoke away, but Charles merely held up his hand.

"Raven really, it's  _alright_. Kurt is planning the activities, Clarice is managing the cooking, and she'll have plenty of help. I'll even be assisting in the kitchen, so really, there's  _nothing_  to..."

"God save us all,  _you're_  helping cook dinner?" The blue woman put her hands over her face. She looked at her brother through splayed fingers. "Ok, make that dinner for  _thirteen_  because I'm  _not_  sacrificing my taste-buds!"

* * *

**_Thanksgiving Day - 9:00 AM_ **

"How the  _hell_  was I supposed to know the turkey would be  _frozen?_ " Clarice lamented, smacking the bird hard with a wooden spoon. It was solid as a rock, and she was surprised the spoon didn't break upon hitting it. "Why doesn't this country eat anything fresh? What is with Americans  _freezing_  things?!"

"Maybe if we turn the oven higher, it will cook faster?" Jean suggested, biting her lip.

"No, that's  _not_  how it works." Clarice sighed, rubbing her forehead. She needed a few minutes to think through this dilemma.

"Oh! I could  _totally_  use my powers to..." Jubilee started moving towards the frozen bird, her fingertips crackling.

" _No! No mutations in the kitchen!_ " The Professor cried out, wheeling over to block Jubilee from advancing on the turkey. Ororo glanced up sheepishly from where she was sweeping up a the pile of broken dishes. The man looked at her and sighed. "Sorry Ororo; I didn't mean to...  _look_ , let's everyone just be a bit more  _careful,_ alright?"

Clarice pulled her hands away and looked at the clock. It wasn't even ten in the morning and already they'd had two cooking accidents, couldn't find the tinfoil or a big enough roasting pan, and now she'd been presented with frozen turkey.  _A frozen goddamn turkey!_  The recipe she planned called for a  _fresh_ turkey; she had no idea how long it would take to thaw the thing and get it in the oven.  _We're so far behind, and now..._

A wet dishrag smacked her in the face, interrupting her inner turmoil.

" _Oh my God! Sorry!_ " Jean apologized as Clarice made a face and pulled the dirty rag away. The young telepath ran over and quickly snatched it from her. "I was trying to send it to Ororo and..."

"What did I just say about  _no mutations_  in the kitchen?!" The Professor wailed. "Use your feet, not your mind.  _Please!_ "

Clarice could practically feel the stain creeping into the man's voice.

"How is everything...?" Kurt poked his head in but Clarice must have shot him a look of pure murder because he quickly thrust his hands in the air as if in a guilty surrender. She turned back to survey her kitchen volunteers, who were so far proving to be more of a  _hindrance_  than any actual  _help_.

"Ok, listen up everyone: I have to focus on fixing this frozen bird, so Professor, you're in charge of the appetizer; Jean, you assist; Jubes, I need you on the first course, which is the squash soup; and Ororo, you help chop vegetables and keep washing the dishes and anything else people ask you to do. Got it?" Her team nodded.

"How can I help?" Kurt asked from the doorway.

"Just keep everyone out of the kitchen, yourself included. I've got my hands full and don't need any more distractions..." Clarice suddenly spotted Freddy Mercury on the counter, enthusiastically licking the turkey.

" _Freddy, no! Down! Get down!_ " She screamed, but being a cat, he ignored her and continued to eat his prize. Before Clarice could say anything more, Ororo raised her hands and created a gentle wind to push the cat off the counter. Unfortunately, her wind also gently pushed off a bag of flour, which sent a plume of white dust into the air, the bulk of which settled on the Professor and Jubilee.

" _Oh no!_ " The African girl grimaced. Clarice put her hands over her face and counted backwards from ten to clam her mind. She then heard the unmistakable sound of Kurt teleporting rapidly around the kitchen, trying to catch Freddy and in the process, upsetting even more ingredients.

" _Here kitty!_ "

" _Watch out!_ "

" _No mutations in the kitchen!_ "

 _Why did I ever agree to this?_   Clarice moaned internally. She would be  _thankful_  when this day was over.

* * *

_**11:00 AM** _

"Who's ready for some  _football_?" Azazel glanced over at the sound of Alex's voice. The young man whistled and tossed a ball to his younger brother as the two approached Azazel's group on school's main athletic field. Kurt had gleefully herded the male guests outside about ten minutes prior, where they'd been waiting for the Summers boys to get their game started. Oddly, Raven joined them just a few minutes ago, and was chatting quietly with Erik.

Azazel wasn't yet sold on this whole _Thanks for Giving_  holiday that Kurt was pushing. He understood that the day had historical significance in this country, and he knew his son was very enthusiastic about all things American. All he knew from the boy's sales pitch was that there'd be a lot of traditional American food, and that the men were supposed to play games while the women cooked before everyone sat down to talk about what they were grateful for in their lives. It all seemed a bit silly _,_ but for some reason, it was important to Kurt, and so Azazel was willing to humor his son for the day.

"What is  _that?_ " He pointed at the brown object Scott twirled in his hands. The boy smiled and lobbed it at him. Azazel caught it easily and turned it over in his hands. It was a strange looking ball of some kind.

"What do you mean?" Scott tilted his head. "Mr. A, it's a  _football_."

"Nein;  _this_  is a football!" Kurt smacked a round black and white ball up in the air with his tail.

"Dude, that's a  _soccer_  ball!" Alex laughed heartily. Azazel frowned and exchanged a confused look with both Kurt and Warren. Surely Alex was joking? Kurt's ball was a  _football;_ Alex and Scott's ball was made for  _hands_ , not  _feet_.

"Wait, are we playing  _soccer_  or  _football_?" Erik asked as he walked over.

"I'm confused," Warren said, scratching his head. "What's  _soccer_?"

" _'Soccer'_  is what Americans call  _'football.'_ " Hank clarified. "In America, we have our own version of football, which is played with the brown ball and with hands. It's actually quite similar to rugby."

"Why is it called  _football_ , then?" Azazel scowled. "Makes  _nyet_ sense."

"Raven, what are  _you_  doing here?" Alex asked with a puzzled expression.

"I'm here to play football. Or soccer?" She shrugged. "Whatever it is we're playing."

"I thought football was just for the  _guys_?" Warren asked. Raven narrowed her eyes at the winged youth. She rippled her scales, and suddenly a red-headed young  _man_  in a numbered jersey now stood where Raven had been.

"There, problem  _solved_." She announced smugly. Azazel grinned proudly at his wife's antics; she'd never been one to back down from a challenge, let alone be told what a  _woman_ could or couldn't do.

"Ok, let's form teams," Hank clapped his hands. "Alex, Azazel, Kurt and I are one team. Raven, Warren, Erik and Scott, you're the other team."

"You're putting  _both_  teleporters on the  _same_  team?" Alex frowned. "Seemed  _stacked_ , Big Foot."

"We already agreed no mutations can be used during game play," Hank shrugged, "so it shouldn't be an issue."

"But Raven's using  _her_  mutation!" Scott pointed out.

"You said  _guys_  only, so I'm a  _guy_." The red-head shrugged. "It's not like I'm using my mutation for a competitive advantage."

"Does she ever do that when you're...  _alone?_ " Warren whispered, making Azazel snort.

"Only when we're feeling  _adventurous_ ," he teased.

" _Eww! Stop!_ " Kurt begged, his hands shooting up to cover his ears.

" _Relax_ , Kurt. It was  _just_  joke. Your mother and I... you know what? Forget it." Azazel shook his head. The kid turned bight purple any time  _adult interactions_  were mentioned within earshot. Kurt still looked a certain degree of horrified as Hank explained the rules of the game, including no tackling, no mutations, and how the point system worked. Alex and Scott illustrated how to throw and catch, and both teams had the benefit of having at least one American on them to explain everything as they played. Azazel thought the it sounded pretty straight forward, maybe even a little boring, but he was willing to give it a chance.

 _How hard can football be?_  He thought as he stared down the opposing side, waiting for his team to kick-off.

* * *

_**Noon** _

Football lasted about twenty minutes, or two full plays, before the teams collectively gave up.

"I think I chipped a  _tooth_ ," Erik surmised, baring his teeth in a mirror to check his smile.

"I think I chipped my  _head_ ," Kurt moaned, shifting his ice pack. He and Erik had collided pretty good on the last play.

"I'll  _trade_  you," Scott huffed as Dr. McCoy secured a bandage around his ankle. The blue man handed the boy a second ice pack.

"Luckily it's only a sprain. Just keep it iced and elevated for the rest of the day. You'll be good as new soon enough."

"I thought we agreed,  _'no mutations'_?" Kurt watched Alex scowl at his father as the blonde put his arm protectively around Scott.

"We agreed no  _using_  mutations. My tail is  _nyet 'using'_  mutation! Is part of my  _body,_ like _arm!_ " Kurt's father scowled back, holding his tail as if to illustrate. "Is not my fault Scott  _tripped_  on it."

"More like you tripped him... "

"What's that  _smell?_ " Ms. Crocker wrinkled her nose. Kurt glanced over at Dr. McCoy's lady friend. Ms. Crocker arrived just as football ended, and she was becoming a regular at the school. She was vision-impaired, and like her scientist boyfriend, she had quite an advanced sense of hearing and smell to compensate. Even her seeing eye-dog Penny seemed to notice something was wrong, and thrust her snout into the air, sniffing away.

As if on cue, Clarice appeared in the doorway of Uncle Charles' private media room where the group had retired until dinnertime. She moved like a ghost, ignoring everyone and bee-lining straight for the bar, where she poured herself a tall drink of what Uncle Charles jokingly called  _'the good stuff.'_  A commotion could be heard in the direction of the kitchen, and sure enough, a small cloud of smoked wafted into the room, seeming to follow Clarice. She turned and looked blankly at the group. Her shirt was clearly singed in two areas, and she had grease and flour smeared on her face like some kind of tribal war paint.

"How is dinner coming along?" His father teased, smirking at his sister's disheveled appearance. Kurt wasn't sure what his aunt replied - it was clipped and in mean-sounding Russian - but her sharp words made Raven laugh and Azazel eyes go wide for a second before he growled back in Russian. Clarice ignored him and threw back her drink, only to immediately pour herself another one.

"Pardon my intrusion," Uncle Charles said politely when he appeared in the doorway. By now, there definitely was smoke behind him, and Kurt would hear Ororo and Jean screaming. He frowned; none of this seemed good at all. His uncle looked at Clarice and smiled, but Kurt could see the panic in his eyes. "Clarice, the stuffing is doing that thing again and ... "

Suddenly there was a loud crash in the kitchen, followed by what sounded like Ororo yelling  _'sorry'_  repeatedly.

"Is there anything I can...?" Kurt started, but Clarice merely threw back her second drink and walked back into the madness of the kitchen. Jean appeared a moment later holding a tray of crackers and what looked like a bowl of dip. Uncle Charles smiled nervously and nodded at her offering.

"First course: appetizers!  _Bon Appetit!_ "

* * *

_**2:00 PM** _

_I told you this was a bad idea_ , Raven concentrated,  _but you never listen to me, and now..._

 _Raven please_ , her brother's strained voice echoed in her head,  _we're having enough trouble in here as is. I don't need a lecture right now; we only just got the turkey roasting, and..._

 _Charles, it's already 2 o'clock!_ She groaned mentally.  _When are you planning to serve dinner? 2 AM?_

"This dip is terrible," Erik whispered, making a face and he put down his cracker. "I thought artichoke dip was supposed to be  _cooked?_ "

"I'm not even sure those are artichokes. Who made this, anyways?" Alex discreetly spit his into a napkin.

"Charles," she sighed out loud.

 _Yes?_ His voice sounded again.

 _No, not you_ , Raven concentrated.  _I was just answering a question, and..._

" _Moya koroleva_?" Raven blinked and looked up. Azazel nodded towards her hand of cards. "Is your turn."

_... Charles, just focus on getting dinner. We're fine. For now._

At present, Raven, Azazel, Erik and Alex where engrossed in a game of Rummy. Hank was giving Carly a tour of his laboratory ( _hopefully bedroom, if he's lucky_ , Raven smirked to herself; she rather liked Carly, and it was good to see Hank so smitten with someone), and Jean and Ororo - who'd both been banished from the kitchen after knocking over the soup pot - were sitting with Scott and Warren, watching some city parade on the media room's television. Kurt was in the hallway, and from his muted, rapid German - too fast for even Raven to understand, as good as her German was - he was on the phone lamenting to Jiamine or Stefan how his Thanksgiving dream was quickly devolving into a  _nightmare_.

She sighed and played a card. Raven wanted her son to be happy, and everyone was trying hard to go along with his quickly assembled plans, but it seemed the stress of the day was really getting to Kurt (not to mention Clarice). After a few more plays Raven folded her hand (much to Erik's delight, as he won the pot of chocolate coins they were gambling), and walked over to the teens on the couch. She leaned down to be eye-level with Jean and Scott.

"You're both average, middle-class, American kids, right? No one grew-up in a super rich household?" Both teens shook their heads no, and Raven nodded.  _"Good._  So, here's the deal: Kurt really wants to experience a normal,  _all-American_  Thanksgiving. What did you two do as kids when this holiday rolled around that made it memorable?"

"Alex and I made paper turkeys and wrote what we were most thankful for on them, and my mom hung them up in the dining room," Scott smiled. "That was always super fun."

"And my parents would let my cousins and I decorate the dinner table: we'd gather sticks, flowers and pine-cones for the centerpiece, and draw a place mats for everyone," Jean added.

"Perfect!" Raven clapped her hands and stood up. "I'll be right back."

She walked into the hallway towards Kurt, tapping him on the shoulder. He spun around quickly like she'd frightened him. He said a quick goodbye to his phone companion.

"Hi Mom," he brushed his hair back and forced a smile. "What's up?"

"Can you take me to the art supply room?" She looped her arm through his. "There are a few things I'd like to get."

* * *

_**4:00 PM** _

"Man, that is one  _messed up_  turkey!" Scott giggled as Kurt held up his construction paper monstrosity.

"Easy for you to draw a turkey when you have  _five_  fingers instead of  _three_." Kurt laughed before turning around to show his drawing off to his parents. He was grinning madly, as if he was a little kid in art class. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful!" Raven indulged. Azazel smiled and held up his drink in approval.

"I would not eat a bird that deformed," he added in Russian, smiling as Kurt beamed. As soon as the boy looked away, Raven jabbed him in the ribs.

"Be  _nice_ ," she hissed.

"What? It's not like he can understand Russian." The red mutant rolled his eyes and got up to pour himself another drink. They were still waiting on the first course of dinner, which was in  _'just a few more minutes'_  as Charles had promised about one hour prior. Luckily, the telepath seemed to give up on his no-alcohol before dinner agenda, although the kids were still banned from drinking. Azazel didn't think that was fair; he'd been able to drink since he could remember, and besides, it was supposed to be a holiday.  _It's bad luck to celebrate without spirits,_  he thought. He was happy that Raven found something for the teens to do that they really seemed to enjoy. Unlike Little Sister, who was not enjoying this day at all.

Azazel frowned and sipped his wine. Clarice was  _not_  happy. He'd seen her just an hour ago looking like she was ready to cry or murder someone or both. He wished he could help, but cooking was never his strong suit, and he was sure he'd end-up being more of a nuance in the kitchen than even Charles.

He glanced at the clock. They were pushing late afternoon, with only crackers and that disgusting dip served to tide them over. He'd thought very seriously about teleporting to his cabin to get some food from home, but Raven snapped at him and Erik when she caught them planning to sneak out. He sighed and returned to the couch, looping his arm around Raven. She laid her head on his shoulder and sipped her own glass of wine. He hoped dinner would be ready soon. He wasn't sure how much more of smiling at these weird paper-birds he could take.

* * *

**_5:00 PM_ **

"I don't want to  _alarm_  anyone," Ms. Crocker said, sniffing the air, "but something's  _definitely_  burning this time."

Kurt dropped the pine cone he was placing on the centerpiece and quickly looked to Clarice. His aunt had taken a break for five minutes to visit and have a glass of wine. As far as Kurt knew, his uncle had been left in the kitchen with  _very strict_  instructions not to touch  _anything_  in her absence. She locked eyes with Kurt, looking panicked. Then, a dark cloud of smoke started seeping into the room from under the door, making the entire group (save for poor Scott) jump to their feet.

" _Oh no!_  The  _turkey!_ " Clarice wailed as she bolted towards the kitchen. This time, Kurt and several others were on her heels. She threw open the kitchen doors and thick, noxious smoke rolled out, causing her to cough violently. His father pulled her back quickly, putting his handkerchief over her mouth to help her breathe. When the initial smoke dissipated, Kurt saw Uncle Charles next to the oven, beating it with a kitchen towel.

"It's  _alright!"_  He yelled and coughed and snapped his towel. Orange flames started glow around the edges of the oven door. "I've got  _everything_  under control!"

"The  _hell_  you do!" Erik yelled, and both he and Raven pushed past Clarice into the kitchen. Kurt watched his mom grab his uncle's wheelchair handles and drag him away as Erik, now with a kitchen towel and pressed to his face, quickly turned off the oven. He then opened the door.

Sure enough, the turkey was on  _fire_.

Thick smoke poured out, and Warren forced himself past Kurt. He quickly beat his wings to clear the air. Unfortunately, while his feathers pushed away smoke, they had the undesirable effect of  _encouraging_  the flames. Erik jumped back as bright orange fire burst from the oven door, nearly hitting him.

 _This is bad,_  Kurt thought miserably as chaos erupted all around him and the turkey burned.  _This is really, really bad._

"Somebody  _do_  something!"

"Get some water!"

"Get more towels!"

"Doesn't anyone have a  _water_  mutation?!"

" _No mutations in the kitchen!_ "

But it was too late; Ororo raised her hands and conjured a small rainstorm. Unfortunately in her panic, the African mutant made the clouds form over the  _people_ , not the fire. The false sky opened up and drenched everyone in a matter of seconds.

Soaking wet, Kurt swallowed hard in defeat. He teleported near the stove and seized Clarice's oven mitts, quickly sliding his hands into them.

He knew what he had to do.

* * *

As suddenly as it started, the smoke and fire disappeared.

"Is everyone all right?" Hank asked, looking around the kitchen as soon as they could breathe. Azazel brushed away the strands of wet hair clinging to his face, and wiped his beard, flicking the water on his hand towards the floor. He looked down at Clarice, who was huddled against him. She was drenched, her blonde hair sticking to her face, making her green eyes look even larger. Everyone around them was soaked to the bone. It seemed only Raven, Erik, and Charles, standing on the other side of the kitchen, had been sparred from Ororo's rainstorm.

"Wait, where's Kurt?" Raven looked at Azazel in alarm. He glanced around but sure enough, their son was missing.

In a heartbeat, the blue boy appeared near Raven, wearing oven mitts and looking miserable. He pulled off the gloves and threw them roughly on the kitchen table, sighing loudly in frustration.

"What...?" Clarice untangled herself from Azazel's arms and stepped forward towards Kurt. "What just happened?"

" _I didn't know what to do!"_ Kurt yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "I  _panicked_  and I grabbed the turkey and teleported outside and  _threw it into the pond!"_

It was  _too_  much. The madness of the entire day - the stress of cooking, the failed attempt to play football, the emergency arts and crafts, the indoor rainstorm and finally, Kurt's moment of sheer panic resulting in him throwing their entire holiday dinner into the pond - finally hit him. Azazel put his hand to his mouth, biting down hard on his finger, but it didn't help.

Exactly three seconds after his son's admission, the red mutant started laughing so hard that he had to sit down right there on the wet kitchen floor. Soon he was joined by everyone, hollowing hysterically, unable to even look at one another less they burst into laughter all over again.

Well,  _almost_  everyone joined him.

When Azazel finally started to calm down, he looked up at Kurt. But, the boy wasn't laughing with the rest of the group; he looked sullen, and on the verge of real tears. Azazel wiped away his tears of laughter and looked him thoughtfully. All his son wanted wanted to was to have nice holiday time, and everything seemed to backfire spectacularly. The red man wished he could at least blame the mishaps on Peter, but he couldn't this time, because...

_Wait, Peter... that's it!  
_

Suddenly, he had a  _brilliant_  idea. He teleported over to Kurt and linked arms with him. The teen looked up in confusion, but Azazel merely smiled and put his hand over his sons. Both melted into a cloud of red, black and blue smoke.

* * *

_**7:00 PM** _

"I'm thankful for everyone who helped in the kitchen today and for this  _delicious_  dinner, even if it wasn't  _exactly_  what was planned!" Clarice grinned as she she reached for another slice of pizza. "I'm also thankful that  _goddamn_ turkey is at the bottom of the pond."

Next to her, Peter laughed and munched happily on his own slice. In his lap, Freddy snoozed peacefully.

"I'm thankful that the pizza place was even  _open_  on Thanksgiving," Raven added, licking her fingers. Kurt saw his dad playfully elbow her.

"See? And you keeping saying I can  _nyet_   _make_  dinner."

"I can't believe you are eating  _again_ ," Wanda shook her head at her brother. "You had like  _three_  plates of food at mom's, and then pie after that."

"Hey, I it's not my fault I have a super high metabolism!" The speedster responded with a shrug. "Plus, I had to run Kurt and Azazel to the pizza joint after they showed-up at mom's. Those two trips alone burns a ton of calories."

"Well, I'm thankful for my wonderful,  _ambitious_  family and students," Uncle Charles smiled and held his pizza slice aloft in a toast.

"And I'm thankful you keep inviting me over for some reason," Erik added with a laugh, matching his gesture.

"I'm thankful for dry clothing," Jubilee giggled, making Ororo roll her eyes. Half the room was wearing their pajamas, thanks to the storm the African mutant whipped up.

"I think we should make pizza at Westchester holiday tradition!" Jean added, which was met by around of happy approvals.

Kurt beamed as the everyone took turns giving their thanks, poking good natured fun at one another, and finally eating dinner. The pizza had been a  _fantastic_  idea; in the aftermath of the destroyed turkey, his father remembered the day Peter first brought pizza for Clarice and how much the speedster raved about it. Thinking fast, Azazel teleported them to the Maximoff's front door and asked Peter to take them to his favorite pizza place. Luckily it was open, the wait wasn't too long, and between Kurt and Azazel, they were able to jump back to Westchester with ten pizzas. Peter and Wanda joined the crew after their family's own holiday wrapped up, and just time time for the final Thanksgiving tradition, led by Dr. McCoy.

The blue scientist stood up in the middle of the room, holding out his hands to get everyone's attention.

"Here's a holiday tradition that I think we can all  _agree on_ : post-dinner Christmas movie!" He announced, and was greeted by a round of cheers and claps. "Alright, now we just have to pick which one to watch..."

" _It's a Wonderful Life!_ " Jubilee volunteered, clapping her hands.

"Oh, let's watch  _Miracle on 34th Street!_ " Jean said. "That's my favorite!"

"I second that one!" Scott added.

" _Charlie Brown Christmas_!" Wanda suggested.

"Wait, I change my vote to that!"

" _Gremlins!_ "

"Peter,  _Gremlins_  is  _not_  a Christmas movie!"

" _Yes_  it is!"

" _No_ , it's  _not!_ "

"Why aren't there any  _Hanukkah_  movies?"

As Kurt sighed and listened to the room dissolve into yet another argument, a familiar arm slipped around his shoulders. His father stood next to him, watching the room fight as he held up his glass of wine.

"Our first real  _all-American_  holiday,  _moy mal'chik_?" He looked at Kurt with a lopsided smirk, but Kurt could see a glimmer of real happiness in his pale eyes. Azazel then pulled Kurt to him in a half-hug, pressing his cheek against the side of Kurt's face. "Of all the things in my life, I am thankful most of all for  _you_."

"Thanks, Dad." Kurt smiled and hugged Azazel back. The two then continued to watch the room bicker. After a moment, Azazel motioned for Kurt to look down. He did, just in time to see his father discretely pouring wine into Kurt's glass from a bottle held by his tail. Azazel put his finger to his lips and winked at Kurt.

"Do  _nyet_  tell anyone I am giving you wine,  _da_? And, happy  _Thanks for Giving_."

Kurt laughed, and using his tail, he clinked his glass against Azazel's. In spite of all the ups and downs of the day, Kurt was thankful most of all that he was was there with his family, perfect holiday or not.


	62. Best Dressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt has nothing to wear to his first school dance; good thing mom and dad have his back. This scene is set between Chapters 15 & 16 in "Monsters." Sweet fluff & small Easter egg for for "Stranger Things."

"Hey Crawler! Who you gonna ask to  _The_   _Snowball_?" Scott whispered across the study hall aisle.

"The  _what?_ " Kurt whispered back, glancing up from his biology notes. A chewed-up pencil slipped from his mouth, falling to the floor with a resounding clatter. The indigo teen winced as he bent to retrieve it, feeling self-conscious as many disrupted students' eyes bored into him. Fall finals were next week, and he felt overwhelmed by the amount of material he had yet to master. He didn't want to disappoint the Professor - or risk losing his  _special scholarship_  - by preforming poorly on any of them. Now here Scott was throwing something else at him to think about.

"You know, the  _winter formal_  after finals?" Scott tilted his head, looking at Kurt as if he should understand the question.

"What's a  _formal_?" Kurt knew what the word  _formal_  meant in English, but not in the way Scott was using it.

"Oh man! I keep forgetting you've never attended  _regular_  school," Scott chuckled. " _The_   _Snowball_  is a dance. You dress-up in a suit and tie, and you ask a girl to go as your date."

"So I dress up and then ask a girl?" Kurt quirked an eyebrow, making his friend snicker.

"No, you ask a girl  _first_ , and then the night of the dance you wear a nice suit, and she wears a fancy dress. You dance together and drink punch and hang out with all your friends. There's great music and it's tons of fun. But, you better ask someone soon before all the good dates are taken. I asked Jean to go with me last period, and she said  _yes_." Scott blushed slightly when he said the redhead's name, making Kurt grin. He knew Scott and Jean really liked each other, and Jean confided in him that she'd kissed Scott recently, and not just on the cheek.  _The Snowball_  would be the first thing to a real date the two would have.

" _Boys?_  Please cut the chatter and get back to your books." The study hall teacher gently reprimanded. Both teens muttered apologies and returned to their notes. Kurt tried to read his textbook, but he wasn't thinking about biology anymore; now all he could think about was who he could ask to the dance. It seemed like such a fun activity, and he didn't want to miss it. Suddenly, he thought about the pretty new girl he'd met just yesterday: Wanda Maximoff. He'd love to ask her to be his date, but he could barely talk around her without getting all tongue-tied. He didn't want to make a fool of himself in front of her, or  _worse_ , hear her say no.  _Maybe Jubilee could_...  _wait, that's it!_

" _Psst,_  Scott?" He whispered excitedly. "Can you ask a girl to go to a dance as a  _friend_ instead of a romantic date?"

"Sure," the teen shrugged, "why not?"

"Cool!" Kurt nodded, but then frowned when he looked down at his outfit. "Oh, but I don't own a suit!"

"No worries," Scott smiled, "I can get one for you."

" _Really?_ " His golden eyes lit-up hopefully.

"Yeah,  _easy_. Alex is driving up to visit this weekend. I'll just ask him to bring a few of his old suits from home. One of them's gotta fit you, and..."

" _Boys?_ Unless you're planning to ask your textbooks to be your dates to the dance, I suggest you drop the conversation and resume studying for your finals." The teacher interrupted again. This time both teens blushed as their classmates giggled. Kurt turned back to his notes, but couldn't help smiling a little. He was going to this very first school dance, and he knew exactly who to ask as his date.

* * *

Just after next period, Kurt spotted Jubilee in the hallway. The energetic girl was practically bouncing as she raced to class.

"Hey Jubes!" Kurt waved.

"Hey Blue! What's up?" She smiled warmly as she skipped over to him.

"Um, can I ask you a question?"

"Technically, you just did." She snickered, making Kurt rolled his eyes but smirk; Jubilee had a fondness for playfully teasing him. "Hey, make it quick though because I'm running late for my philosophy class."

"Well in  _that_  case." Kurt bowed dramatically and offered Jubilee his hand. "M'lady, allow me to escort you through these dangerous lands to thine class."

She laughed and took his hand. A heartbeat later, both teens stood outside the Professor's classroom, about three flights up from where they'd just been.

"Sir Kurt, you're a lifesaver! How can I ever repay you?"

"Well, I was wondering if you had someone to take you to  _The Snowflake_  yet?" He asked.

"You mean  _The Snowball_ , right?" Jubilee tilted her head.

" _Ja_ , sorry.  _The Snowball_ ," he tried again, twisting his tail in both hands nervously. "Um, do you have a date to the dance yet?"

"Not  _yet..._ " Jubilee said sing-songy as she clutched her books to her chest and grinned.

"Would you want to  _maybe_ , I  _dunno_...?" Kurt took a deep breath before blurting everything out. "Do you want to be my date? Like go with me, but as friends? But, you don't have to if you don't want to, and...!"

"Kurt, I would  _love_  to go to _The Snowball_  with you on a friend-date!" She giggled.

" _Wunderbar!_ " He smiled widely, showing all his fangs.

"Meet me on Saturday in the lobby of the girls' dormitory at 7 PM for pictures. Oh, and my dress is red and gold and I  _adore_  orchids."

"You...  _what?_ " Kurt blinked in confusion. "Orchids?"

"Yeah, you know  _orchids_? The  _flowers_?" She stressed. "For my corsage?"

"Oh,  _ja_  right!" He nodding vigorously. "For your  _corsage_ , of course!"

"Ok, I gotta to get into the classroom before I'm  _really_  late now." Jubilee gave him a quick hug. "Thanks for asking me to the dance! We'll go with Scott and Jean and we'll have a ton of fun!"

"See you later!" He waved as she skipped away. In the last hour Kurt managed to score both a suit and a date for the dance, but now he faced his next big challenge:  _what in heaven's name was a corsage?_

* * *

" _Corsage,_ noun _; a small bouquet worn at the waist, on the shoulder, or on the wrist, by a woman._ " Azazel peered at Kurt over his Oxford English dictionary. The indigo teen was happy that the red mutant also had no idea what the word meant, although now he was presented with a completely different problem: Kurt needed to somehow procure a corsage by Saturday evening.

Presently, it was Monday afternoon, four days after he'd asked Jubilee to be his date and just one day after Scott handed him an old grey suit and white dress shirt from his brother. Scott told him that Alex didn't need the suit or shirt returned, so the teen could alter it any way he needed; seeing as Kurt would have to accommodate his tail, he was grateful for Alex's generosity. As soon as he could, Kurt sought out Azazel, and presented him the suit. Kurt hoped the red man could help him with alterations, like he helped with Kurt's clothing the night they met in Latvia.

"How is it you have tail but do  _nyet_  know how to sew?" Azazel asked. He looked directly at Kurt, who sat on Azazel's bed while Azazel held up the grey suit and carefully examined the garment. The man had a pretty intense stare, one Kurt would have found scary if he didn't know how  _nice_ Azazel actually was.

"I never needed to, I guess?" Kurt shrugged. "All the women in my German family know how to sew, so they always helped with my tail. Besides, sewing is a  _woman's_  job."

"I did  _nyet_  know a sewing needle could be a  _man_  or a  _woman_ ," Azazel rolled his eyes before shaking his head. " _Mal'chik,_  someday soon you and I will sit down and have talk about your ideas of men's work and women's work." He turned back to the suit and frowned. "This  _fits_  you?"

"Honestly, it's a little big, but it's the best I can do on short notice," he answered. "The dance is this weekend and I don't have money for a new suit; I'm lucky I already have a tie to go with this one. Now I have to figure out how to get a corsage too."

"Alright, stand here, and stand still." Azazel tossed the suit on the bed and motioned for Kurt to stand in the middle of the room. Kurt teleported over, and as soon as he reappeared, Azazel positioned his arms so they were stretched out. Kurt watched him take a roll of bright yellow tape and hold it up against his arms, legs and neck, all the white jotting down notes in Russian.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked, trying to see what he was writing.

"I am measuring so I know how much to take in suit." Azazel paused and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Kurt, have you never worn clothes that  _fit_  you?"

" _Nein_ , not really," the teen shrugged casually. "At the Munich Circus, we take what we can get."

"Well, come back day of dance and I will have this fixed," Azazel waved at the suit before pointing at Kurt. "And  _nyet_  worry about the flowers. Just come to me an hour before you meet your  _devotchka_ ,  _da_?"

Kurt nodded, feeling relieved. He knew he could count on Azazel to help.

* * *

The second Kurt disappeared, Azazel wrinkled his nose at the old suit heaped on his bed. There was  _no way_  he was letting Kurt wear  _that_  in public. The top and bottom didn't even match, and the coat was far too large for Kurt's lanky frame. The boy was built like Azazel, and needed something more slim-fitting; Kurt might as well be swimming in the old suit. He knew it was a kind gesture from the Summers' to give Kurt a suit so he could go to the dance, but still...

 _This won't do_ , he pursed his lips as he threw the suit in the trash. Not for  _his_  son, at least. The red mutant closed his eyes and vanished. Seconds later, appeared in the kitchen of a quaint apartment, far from Westchester.

"Thanks for knocking,  _asshat,_ " Clarice said, not even bothering to glance up from her book. She was sitting at the kitchen island, casually stirring a bowl of Ramen. " _Seriously?_  What if I was dancing around naked and you just showed up in the middle of the room like that?"

"Then I would be scarred for life," he retorted dryly.

"Look in the mirror Big Brother," she snickered, glancing up and pointing to her left eye. "You're  _already_  scarred for life."

"You're really funny, you know that?"

"The only thing  _funny_  going on here is is your ability to somehow  _always_  appear just after I've made food," Clarice shook her head. "Are you hungry? Wait, scratch that; why do I even  _bother_  asking?" She sighed dramatically and walked to the stove. Grabbing a second bowl, she ladled a big helping of soup into it. "One egg or two?"

"Two please," he said as he pulled up a chair across from her. Clarice set the bowl in of him and settled back into her own seat. She grabbed her chopsticks and picked at her noodles.

"So, what's up? I thought you were in  _America_  today."

"I was, but I need your help something," Azazel said nonchalantly while stirring his soup.

"This better be  _good_ ," she raised an eyebrow. "It's my day  _off_."

"It is to help  _Kurt_ ," he answered, and at that, Clarice perked up.

"Well  _shit_ , why didn't you say so? What can I do to help you with my  _secret nephew_  who you still have yet to take me to meet?" She folded her hands under her chin and blinked at him in innocent sarcasm. Azazel pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I have asked Charles and he has agreed that you may come to the school."

" _Really?_ "

"Yes really. I will take you with me next week."

" _Promise?_ "

"Yes."

" _Promise-Promise?_ "

" _Yes_ , I  _promise_." He sighed. "Now, about Kurt?"

"What about Kurt?" She leaned back and crossed her arms.

"He is going to his first dance. He needs a suit, and I'd like you to help me choose one that would be fashionable for a young person. One  _girls_  will like."

"That I can help with." Clarice glanced at the wall clock. "What time is it in Milan?"

"Just about  _closing time_ ," Azazel smirked and picked up his bowl. He and Clarice had pretty expensive tastes, but luckily for them, Azazel's mutation allowed them to "shop" at any store in the world. Azazel never thought twice about taking things like clothing, and besides, they only took from stores that could afford to lose a few pieces; he never took anything from someone who couldn't afford to be with out it. And, as someone who's physical mutation barred him from being allowed into most stores in the world, Azazel didn't feel bad about taking things from a few rich humans, anyways.

"Well, let's finish lunch and go shopping!" Clarice winked.

* * *

_**Saturday Night...** _

Kurt knocked on Azazel's bedroom door. His dress shirt and tie were slung over his arm. The indigo teen was a touch nervous about picking up his suit only an hour before he was supposed to meet Jubilee and the others. It left no time for alterations or adjustments if it didn't fit, but he supposed since it was a hand-me-down, it'd have to do. Azazel opened the door and looked very pleased to see him.

"Come," the man waved him in and Kurt glanced around, but he didn't see the suit anywhere. He turned back to Azazel, but the red mutant just stood next to the door with his hands clasped behind his back, smiling.

"So...," Kurt scratched the back of his neck, "where's my suit?"

"I have  _surprise_  for you," Azazel held up a finger. "But, you must wait. I be  _right_  back."

Kurt sat down on the edge of the bed. A few minutes later Azazel reappeared, now holding a rather large black bag on a hanger. The red mutant hung it on the wardrobe door. Kurt peered over his shoulder as Azazel unzipped the bag, and inside was...

... the most lovely jet-black suit he'd ever seen!

"What is this?" Kurt gasped and teleported over for a closer look. "This isn't Alex's suit, this is..." He reached out and touched the suit's sleeve. It felt smooth, like silk. "This is  _amazing_!"

"Here to go with it," Azazel grinned as he unzipped the other side of the bag. Inside was a crisply pressed dress shirt, as deep red as Azazel's skin and a golden tie nearly identical to Kurt's eyes. "You can change in the bathroom."

"Wait, is this for  _me?_ " Kurt asked excitedly, and Azazel nodded. He looked again at the suit. He couldn't believe it.

" _Da_ , is... old suit of mine," Azazel said. "I thought maybe it would fit you better than first one. Now, go try on!" The man ushered Kurt and the suit towards the attached bathroom. It took Kurt a few minutes to change into it, but it fit like a dream.

"What do you think?" The teen asked as he stepped out, holding his arms out like a showman. Azazel gave him a low whistle and an appreciative nod.

"Looks very nice,  _moy mal'chik_. Here," Azazel fussed with a few parts of the suit and re-tied Kurt's tie. He then folded gold and crimson handkerchiefs into the suit pocket. When he was finished, he took Kurt by his shoulders and turned him around to face the mirror.

"I look like a  _movie star!_ " Kurt gushed, admiring his reflection. "I mean, if movie stars were blue, and had tails. And,  _fangs_."

"Speaking of  _blue_ ," Azazel flipped Kurt's wrists over, and fastened cuff-links onto his shirt. They were gold with tiny blue stones in an intricate design. "Final touch,  _da_?"

"These are so beautiful!" He gushed. "I'll take really good care of them, and I won't lose them, I promise!"

"This is gift to you," the red man motioned to Kurt's suit. "All of it. Is yours to keep."

"Azazel, you're the best!" Kurt grinned. "How can I ever repay you?"

" _Nyet_ need; is pleasure to help," he smiled warmly at Kurt before tapping on his watch. "Now, go get your date. Raven will meet you on the way. Remember:  _devotchkas_  do  _nyet_  like to wait, even if they keep you waiting."

* * *

Raven jogged towards the girls' dormitory, her false blonde curls bouncing with each hurried step. She carried a small box that contained a white and red orchid corsage tied with gold ribbon. She was on the look out to intercept Kurt before he reached Jubilee. All around her teens were dressed up and collecting their dates. Luckily, her  _blue_  son would be easy to spot, even in a crowd.

A few days ago she'd woken up to find a note slipped under her door. All it read was: "Boy needs 'corsage.' Orchid? Red and gold? Meet him on way to girls' dormitory before dance." The note was unsigned, but the messy handing writing and broken English let her know exactly who scribbled it. She went to a florists that day to order a corsage, making sure it was elegant enough to match Azazel's tastes.

Raven stopped to scan the crowd, and just a few minutes later, Kurt appeared in the middle of the lobby. She waved to him.

"Hey Raven!" He teleported to her side. "Azazel said you wanted to meet me?"

"Yeah, to give you  _this_." She handed him the box. He tiled his head and she motioned for him to open it.

"Of course, the  _corsage!_ " He looked up and smiled happily, and she returned the gesture. Part of her so badly wanted to touch his face or hug him, but she knew she couldn't. "I almost forgot about this. Raven, thank you! This is perfect!"

As he closed the box, Raven saw a flash of blue and gold at his wrist. Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed his sleeve, gently turning his hand over.

"Do you like my cuff-links?" He asked brightly. "Azazel gave them to me. He gave me this  _whole_  suit, actually."

"Yeah, they're...  _beautiful_." Raven recognized those cuff-links immediately, because  _she'd_  given them to Azazel for their first wedding anniversary. She couldn't believe he still had them, after all these years. She looked over the rest of Kurt's outfit. If her son had red skin, he'd almost be miniature version of his father when Raven met over twenty years ago.

" _Kurt?_ " Both blue mutants looked over to see Jubilee standing on the base of the stairs. Her hair was elegantly styled up and she wore a crimson cheongsam dress with gold detailing and jewelry. Raven thought she looked stunning, and judging by Kurt's open jaw expression, so did he.

"Come on man, it's photo time!" Scott and Jean appeared next to Jubilee and Kurt rushed off to present the corsage to his date. After taking too many photos, the teens left for the gymnasium to enjoy the dance.

Raven remained in the lobby doorway, watching them depart. She'd be joining them shortly; somehow, Charles had roped her and Hank into being chaperones for the night.

"Well, he certainly looks  _dashing_." Raven turned at the sound of Charles's voice to see him wheeling up to her and motioning to Kurt.

"That's an  _Armani_ ," she answered, shaking her head.

"Think Kurt has any idea he's wearing a $5,000 suit?" Charles laughed, making her sigh. Raven doubted Kurt had any idea his entire outfit cost that much. Azazel was never cheap with clothing, and honestly, why should he be? It's not like he could walk into a store and be tailored for a new suit on the spot. She'd always turned a blind eye to that kinda stuff. Charles smiled and offered his arm in a gentlemanly gesture.

"Shall we, my dear sister?" She laughed flipped her scales, now wearing a shimmering cocktail dress, and slipped her arm through his.

* * *

Clarice was perched on the edge of her seat, happily tapping her toes along to the music. She could never get her hands on American albums like this back in the East. She made a mental note to ask Azazel if she could go shopping when they returned to Westchester next week so she could pick-up a few cassette tapes. America was far more mutant-friendly and had way better music, so she could go to a record store without causing a scene. Clarice watched the teens from her and Azazel's hidden spot up in gymnasium's announcer box. In the little room, they had a bird's eye view of the festivities below without fear of anyone seeing them. If there was one thing Big Brother excelled at, it was finding these hidden places where he could see without being seen (although, Clarice supposed that sadly, a lifetime of hiding had a lot to do with that talent).

She could barely see Kurt - he was more of a blue blur than anything else - but Azazel promised her again that she'd finally meet him proper in just a few days. Tonight was a special favor because she'd begged him to bring her just for a little while to see the dance. Azazel hadn't told the Professor about it, so Clarice had to stay very hidden. As she watched the kids dance, Azazel stepped in front of here and held out his hand. She looked up at him and frowned.

"But we  _just_  got here!" Clarice pouted and made no move to take his hand.

"I think you misunderstand," he laughed and thrust his hand towards her. "May I have this dance?"

"Are you  _fucking_  kidding me?" Now Clarice was laughing. " _Geeze_ , a few weeks of hanging out with these kids, and now you're a big  _softie_." He shrugged and kept his hand out. Clarice shook her head and took it.

She'd never slow-danced before, and she was surprised how good a dancer Azazel was. She wondered when in his life he'd even learned to dance, and if was something he used to like.  _Another mystery for another day,_  she thought. For now, she let herself enjoy the rhythm of the music and the excitement of meeting her nephew in a few days. And possibly, getting her hands on a few new records.

* * *

At the end of the night, Kurt and Scott walked Jubilee and Jean back to the girls' dormitory. Kurt had the biggest, silliest grin on his face. His friends had been right;  _The Snowball_  had been great fun, and he even got to dance with a lot of cute girls, not just Jubilee. Everyone loved his suit too, which made him feel quite debonair.

"Thanks for asking me to your friend-date," Jubilee smiled when they reached the stairs. "I had so much fun!" Before Kurt could reply, she got up on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek. He turned bright purple and stammered out a thank you. Next to them, Scott kissed Jean goodnight, and both girls walked up the stairs together. Kurt waved goodbye again when they reached the top.

"See, told you it was worth it," Scott punched Kurt's arm playfully. When Kurt turned around, he paused; Wanda and Peter were walking their way, both carrying suitcases. Peter perked up and waved to them.

"It's  _Kurt_ and _Scott,_ right?" He asked, and the boys nodded.

"Hi!" Kurt smiled at Wanda (but, not wide enough to show his fangs; he didn't want to scare her this time). "I um... didn't see either of you at the dance tonight?"

"Nah Brah, we had a family thing today," Peter said.

"I'm actually just moving the last of my things in now," Wanda motioned to her suitcase.

"Oh cool!" Kurt smiled, suddenly not having any idea of what else to say. They stood there smiling at one another awkwardly.

"So do you need help?" Scott offered, but Wanda shook her head.

"No, but thank you. Peter's got this, right?" She looked at the speedster and he snapped on his goggles, disappearing in a blur with both suitcases.

"Well, I should get going too," she said, turning towards the stairs. "Maybe next dance, huh?"

"'Night!" Scott waved. After a few seconds, he lightly smacked Kurt's arm, starling the indigo teen back to reality.

"Goodnight Wanda!" Kurt called out after her. The redhead stopped and turned around, smiling at Kurt.

"Hey, I like your suit. It looks really nice on you."

" _Danke_...er, thank you," Kurt stammered out.

"Well, good night," she nodded and continued on her way.

Kurt was now officially in heaven.


	63. Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a teenage Azazel contemplates life, friendship, and chocolate in the middle of the night. This scene takes before "Monsters" begins, and roughly in the late 1940s (post-WWII). All conversations in (implied) Russian.

" _Psst!_ Azzy? You  _awake?_ "

Pulled back from the cusp of sleep, Azazel rolled onto his side in the direction of the voice. He yawned and started to rub his eyes only to have a burst of pain swiftly chase the remaining drowsiness from him, making him bolt upright in bed. He clenched his jaw, putting one hand gingerly to the bandages binding his wounded eye. He blinked, and as his good eye adjusted to his dim surroundings, he saw not only his own icy breath, but a face looming in the darkness.

" _Neena?"_ He asked in surprise as he swung his legs over the cot's side. The thin blanket itched as he moved, and its fabric almost nothing to keep out the dank and cold of the barracks. " _How_  did you...?"

" _Shhh!_ " She chided, and Azazel shook his head and rubbed his eye again. Sure enough,  _Neena Thurman_  was crouched next to his bedside, a finger pressed to her lips as she motioned for him to be quiet. She shouldered a small rucksack, and a devilish grin lit up her face, her bright smile glowing against her midnight skin. All around them, he could hear the rhythmic breathing and snoring of the other recruits; the other  _male recruits_. Neena had preformed quite a feat by sneaking into the boys' barracks in the middle of the night. Male and female fraternizing after curfew was strictly forbidden (not that it prevented some intermingling, but still... the punishment if she was discovered would be  _severe_  to say the least).

"Think you can take us to the rooftop?" Neena whispered, and Azazel nodded, not entirely trusting his voice. As quietly as possible, he started pulling on warmer gear over his under clothing. He couldn't retrieve his coat from the closet without risking waking someone, but he did have two sweaters nearby. That would have to be enough for their secret trip outside. He  _hated_  those sweaters - they were far too large and riddled with self-patched holes - but all recruits' clothing were leftover, hand-me-downs from the Soviet war years. Even Neena's clothing was an old sniper's uniform, but she was apt with sewing needles and thread, so her fit was far more flattering. In their rare moments of spare time, Neena was teaching Azazel how to sew, which helped  _tremendously_  considering his tail; until he learned how to stitch tail slits, he'd had to wear pants backwards to accommodate his extra appendage. Azazel was lucky that least his boots fit, and that he had two pairs of good socks. As he pulled his laces tight, he promised himself again that as soon as he finished training and could afford it, he'd never wear this  _junk_  clothing again. One day he'd wear nice, tailored clothing all the time - fancy suits even -  _bourgeois_ or not.

He stood when finished, and taking her hand, Azazel closed his eyes and imagined he and Neena standing on the roof. A heartbeat later...

" _Wow!_ " She praised as soon as they appeared. She turned to him and squeezed his hand. "Your teleporting's getting much stronger. I wish my mutation was half as  _useful_."

"Being an expert sharp-shooter seems like a pretty good mutation to me," he added, releasing her hand.

"Yeah but I'm only good with guns, not knives," she teased. "That's  _your_  department.

A light snow was falling, but it was colder outside then he'd anticipated. He started shivering almost immediately, prompting Neena to quickly produce a blanket from her rucksack. She motioned towards the building's ledge, and the two sat with their feet dangling over the side, huddled under the blanket as they quietly gazed up at the stars.

If he had to guess, Azazel would say he was around fifteen years old, and Neena believed herself to be sixteen. The two had practically grown up together, arriving to the training camps as young children and quickly excelling to the top of their class. There were only a handful of mutants in their program, but because of his blood-red features and her dark African skin, the two had formed an instant bond as the only  _colored_  children in a sea of white faces. Azazel glanced sideways, studying Neena's face as she watched the sky. She had a patch of pale skin marking her left eye roughly in the shape of a diamond. She called it  _vitiligo_ , and much like his tail, it made their  _otherness_  stand out, even in their own small circle of mutant recruits.

Neena was the closest person Azazel had to what he'd call a  _best friend._  The two shared everything with each other, which was exactly why Azazel found himself confused as to why he suddenly felt so  _funny_ around Neena over the last few months.

He'd started to notice little things about her - how she absentmindedly twirled her hair when deep in thought, or how perfectly straight her teeth were, or how she moved with such grace and conviction when they were sparring - things that he hadn't ever really thought about before. A few weeks back, one of their comrades had cause quite a stir when he somehow smuggled a  _Western_  magazine with images of half-naked women into the barracks. In the secret hours after training, the recruit used it to leverage power, trading a quick look at the magazine for a few cigarettes or other desired goods. Azazel and Neena pooled their resources to get a peek inside the hotly debated contraband. He'd been shocked when he finally saw pictures; all the women Azazel knew didn't look anything the delicately feminine, lace-wearing starlettes smiling alluringly from the glossy pages. Even Neena was quiet as they flipped though it, commenting only that the fine stockings and lace underthings the women wore didn't look very practical or warm. Later that night, Azazel had a strange dream about Neena, and although he couldn't fully remember it, he could remember that she'd been wearing lace stockings and laughing at him. He woke-up with both an erection and face flushed with embarrassment. He'd never told her about his dream; she'd probably have laughed at him in real life if he did.

"When did you get back?" He asked quietly, suddenly feeling self-conscious at his own thoughts. Neena wasn't a telepath, but the last thing he wanted was to get a hard-on right then, sitting so close to her and thinking about that weird dream.

"A few hours ago, and I have a  _surprise!_ " She grinned and opened the rucksack next to her. She held up something small and wrapped in bright silver and red foil. Azazel recognized it immediately.

"Is that...?"

"Yep,  _Krasny Oktyabr_ ," she giggled, peeling back the foil to reveal the chocolate bar nestled inside. "You have  _no idea_  how hard this was to smuggle in."

Azazel felt his mouth start watering. Sweets of any kind were punishable by at least a  _week_  in solitary confinement. He'd tasted chocolate only once in his life - last year, as a prize when he won his level's swordsmanship competition - and he still remembered how decadent the treat had been.

"Here," Neena broke the bar and offered him half.

"Are you  _sure?_ " He raised an eyebrow. She was offering him a lot of chocolate; chocolate that she could easily trade for other sinful contraband. She nodded, and he eagerly accepted. He broke his share into small pieces so he could better savor it. As soon as the first bite touched his tongue, he closed his eyes. It tasted like  _heaven,_  and just as wonderful as he remembered.

"So, where do you think we are  _this_  time?" She asked after a few moments. He opened his eyes and looked across the landscape. It was nondescript, with snowy trees and fields and some industrial looking buildings in the far distance. The recruits were moved around quite a bit to different training facilities. It wasn't uncommon for them to stay only a week or so at one place before being loaded into trucks and transported elsewhere. Sometimes the trips took many days, and often they slept in the back of trucks during these moves.

"Not sure, but last week I heard Commander Pavlichenko say something about  _Omsk_ ," he shrugged, "but I could be wrong."

" _Pavlichenko?_  The bitch who shot you last winter?" Neena snickered. He scowled and glanced away. He didn't like to be reminded of that particular incident, especially since it was Neena who taunted him into mouthing off at the trainer to begin with.

"How's your eye?" She reached towards the bandage, but Azazel gently slapped her hand away.

"Don't touch it. It's  _healing,_ I won't lose sight in it, thankfully."

"Well, you're going to have one wicked scar there, that's for sure."

" _Great_." He frowned and readjusted the bandage. He had a hard enough time being red, having tapered ears, fangs,  _and_  a tail; now he was going to have a  _giant scar_  cutting across his face, too. He was already self-conscious about the stupid scar on his chin; he'd just started shaving earlier that year, and he was already contemplating growing a beard to hide it.

"Hey, come on, don't be so down." Neena said encouragingly, playfully punching his arm. "Scars are can be  _handsome_ , and besides," she tapped her own left eye, "now we can be  _twins_."

"Do you remember your family?" He changed the subject, taking another small bite of chocolate. He'd rather not talk about their appearances anymore, or his injury.

"A little," she admitted quietly. "I was so young when everything went to  _shit_. I remember my father, mostly; he had the same skin condition as me, but with white patches all over his hands too. I know I had a mother and younger sisters, and I remember it was my chore to fetch water at the river every morning, but I don't really remember much else before my village was burned. I was smuggled aboard a boat to be sold as a slave - I  _do_  remember that - but as soon as they realized I was a  _mutant_ , I ended-up here. You?"

"My father died before I was born, and I can't really remember my mother, but I do remember she looked  _normal,_ and not red, or with a tail. I think once she said I looked like my father. I know she really loved him, and she got in a lot of trouble for running away with him. We lived on a mountainside, and I remember we kept goats. I was taken from her by soldiers one day, and ended-up here like you. "

"Do you think you'll ever have your own family some day?" She turned towards him, her eyebrow quirked.

"What, you mean like a  _wife_ and _k_ _ids?_ " He laughed and shook his head before motioning to himself. "God,  _no!_  Who would want  _this_ , anyways? I'm a  _freak_."

"You're not a  _freak_  Azzy, you're just  _different,_ " Neena shrugged. "And who knows? It's a big world, and there's got to be more of us out there. I mean, if you could be born with red skin, maybe somewhere there's the girl for you who's also  _red_ , or  _green_ , or heck,  _blue_."

"Yeah,  _right_." He snorted dismissively. "I'd like to see  _that._ "

"You know,  _I_  think you're kinda  _cute_."

He stopped laughing and glanced over at her. Neena looked at him evenly, with no hint of teasing. Oddly, he felt his stomach flip-flop.

"I'm going to kiss you now,  _Ok?_ " She said, dropping her voice.

" _On the mouth... ?!_ " He startled, but before he could say anything else, she quickly leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. His eyes grew wide and he stiffened for a moment before instinctively moving his mouth against hers. Neena's lips were flush and warm and inviting, and kissing was  _way better_  than the chocolate he'd just eaten. She tilted her head slightly and parted her lips, letting her tongue brush up against his, and then...

Azazel was suddenly standing on the other side of the roof. He stumbled, almost landing on his face as he tripped over his tail. The blanket was wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.

" _Smooth move_ , Ace."

He looked across the way, horrified to see Neena now with her hand to her mouth, laughing. His face burned, and he felt like a complete fool for involuntarily teleporting in the middle of their kiss.  _My first kiss_ , he realized glumly. He knew Neena had already kissed a few boys, but  _he'd_  never actually kissed anyone before. She waved him back over. He walked back, too ashamed to teleport, and he hoped his face wasn't too much a tell for his embarrassment.

"Um, I didn't mean to do that..." He started, but she held up her hand to interrupt.

"Look, there's something I wanted to tell you, and well, tonight just  _proved_  it." She took a deep breath and turned to him. Azazel felt his heart swell; he'd be ready, this time, for their next kiss. He leaned forward, closing his eye.

"Azzy, I think... I like  _girls_."

"You...  _what?_ " He sat back, blinking in confusion. Neena suddenly looked ashamed herself, and stared at her hands in her lap.

"I've felt this way for as long as I could remember, but looking through that magazine with you a few weeks ago... I can't stop thinking about how beautiful those women were, and much I  _liked_  looking at them, and how much I wanted to do stuff like kiss and touch them. And you're the  _best_  guy I know, so I figured that if I kissed you and I didn't like it, then I was definitely into girls, and..."

"You  _didn't_  like kissing me?" He asked quickly, feeling rather crestfallen. Neena looked up in alarm.

"No, I  _did_  like it and it felt really nice, and you were great, teleporting and all," she smiled sadly. He frowned as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it with the back of her hand. "It isn't you, it's me. I just... look, if there was a guy for me, it'd be you, but I don't feel like I like you in a romantic way. I wanted to kiss you to see if that changed my mind, but it didn't. I like girls. I'm just... it was hard to admit it out loud, even to you. I was  _scared_. And I'm sorry if I hurt you; that wasn't my intention."

"Oh," Azazel said nodding. "I understand."

" _Really?_ " She looked up hopefully, wiping away another tear. Honestly, Azazel didn't really understand, but he could tell it was what she needed to hear right then. He'd have to think about everything she'd just confessed, but at the moment, all he knew was that it didn't change who Neena was. She was still his friend, even if she liked girls. After moment, she leaned over and hugged him tightly. He could feel her shaking slightly from the fear of her omission.

"You're still my best friend," he said, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders again. Neena sniffled before laughing.

"And, I'm still going kick your ass in training tomorrow, bandages or not."

Azazel smirked. She laid her head on his shoulder. He bit into his last piece of chocolate, watching the sun just start to rise. He supposed it was a good enough consolation prize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I really just liked the idea of writing about Azazel when he was Kurt's age, and going through awkward years, crushing on girls and not sure what to do about it. It's a contrast and prelude to his older, much more confident self in "Monsters." I have a few distant past stories planned for Raven & Clarice as well. Happy reading!


	64. Let's Get Cooking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Clarice adjusts to her new civilian life, Charles helps her discover where her true passions lay. This scene is between Chapters 54-55 of "Monsters." Cute Clarice & hungry Charles.

"Um...  _knock, knock?_ "

Charles glanced up from his lesson planning to find Clarice peeking into in his cabin's doorway. She smiled shyly.

"Hi Professor! Sorry, if I'm interrupting you...?" She motioned to this notes, but Charles grinned and quickly waved away her concern.

"Not at all." He dropped his pen and flexed his fingers. His hand felt and tired and cramped from writing, and her unexpected appearance was a welcome distraction. "What brings you by?"

"I have a small favor to ask." She opened the door and showed him a bowl brimming with what looked like cookie dough. "Mind if I use your oven for a bit?"

"Of course," he waved for her to enter, "but, is something  _faulty_  with your oven? I can have Hank take a look at it..."

"Oh, our oven's  _fine_." Clarice snickered. "I just had to get out of the cabin for a bit. I couldn't handle all the  _screaming_."

"They're not fighting again, are they?" Charles frowned he followed Clarice into the kitchen area. She put her bowl on the counter and starting fiddling with the oven's temperature nob.

" _Fighting_  or  _fucking_ , it's hard to tell the difference sometimes." She smirked until she saw what Charles was sure was an expression of utter horror on his face. Clarice bit her lip, looking apologetic. "Oh,  _sorry._ I didn't mean too..."

He shook his head and held up a hand. He knew what she'd meant, but he certainly didn't want to think about  _that_. While Raven and Azazel were easing back into their relationship, it hadn't exactly been smooth sailing. They loved each other, but that didn't change the fact they were still two very independent, very  _stubborn_  individuals with strong opinions. Charles found it baffling how easily they could agree on major situations involving Kurt, but then immediately start bickering over trivial things like folding towels or grocery shopping.

" _Anyways_ ," Clarice politely changed topics, "I promised Kurt I'd bake him and his friends some cookies for when they get home from the mall, so here I am."

Charles observed quietly as she resumed her work. He watched her carefully lay balls of dough on a greased sheet and slide it in the oven, the set the timer. Honestly, he didn't even know his cabin had a baking sheet until she pulled out one out.

"Do you bake much?" He asked as Clarice wiped her hands.

"Not really," she shrugged, "I much prefer cooking to baking, but Kurt's got a sweet-tooth and pretty much  _begged_  me to make cookies, and you've seen that puppy-dog face he can make." Charles laughed as he nodded. Saying  _'no'_  to his nephew was a rarity when the boy really wanted something; thankfully, Kurt was considerate and the few things he asked for were always extremely reasonable.

"Hey, what are you eating here?" Clarice took the lid off a stove pot and peered inside.

"Nothing special, just some canned soup. Bachelor lifestyle, I guess. Actually, I'd completely forgotten about it." Charles had become so engrossed in his notes that he'd actually forgotten about his dinner. The soup was probably cold and needed to be reheated. "Normally Hank does all the cooking around here, but he's out right now, and..."

"I can make you something." Clarice interrupted, quickly moving to the fridge.

"Oh, it's alright! Really, you don't have to..." But she was already began rummaging though the produce. She pulled out a few eggs and vegetables as well as a block of cheese. A peaceful concentration bloomed on her face as she methodically sliced and scrambled. As a telepath, Charles made it a point not to randomly read people's minds, but even he couldn't help but feel the serenity and happiness radiating from her as she worked with the food. She really loved it.

A short while later, Clarice handed him a plate. On it was a piping hot and rather picturesque omelette, and it smelled  _heavenly_. Charles could feel his mouth salivating as he accepted it. He took a bite; he'd been wholly unprepared for how delicious it was.

"You didn't have much in your icebox, so I hope this is alright."

"Clarice this is...  _extraordinary_." He looked up at her in awe and saw her cheeks flush.

"Aww, thanks Professor! It's just an omelette. I make them all the time for breakfast."

"Seriously, if you can do this with an omelette..." He quirked an eyebrow and studied her carefully for a few seconds. "Have you ever considered attending cooking school?

" _Cooking school_? Wait, there's a  _school_  for that?" She asked, clearly puzzled. "Like an  _entire_  school?"

" _Several_ , actually," Charles grinned and ate another mouthful. "And a really top-notch one right in New York City. You know, I have an acquaintance who sits on the school's board. I could speak with her, and see if it's possible for you to enroll in the spring semester."

"Oh,  _wow!_ " Clarice's eyes went wide and she looked taken aback. Charles felt the doubt rolling off her.

"You've never thought about  _you_  going to school before, have you?" He asked as he set down his folk. She shook her head.

"The only school I've ever known before Westchester was the KGB training program Azazel put me in. In the East, there aren't as many schools as in America, and certainly not  _cooking_  schools or even schools that are mutant friendly." She frowned. "But, even if I wanted to go, I don't have any paperwork, like a high school diploma. Peter said you needed that to get into college, which is why he's taking that big GED test in a few weeks, and I..."

"Don't worry about that," Charles assured. "You don't need a high school diploma for all colleges, and I'm sure I could pull a few strings. Speaking of Peter, he'll be attending a city college in the spring. You'd like to go with him."

"Did you read my mind?" She quirked an eyebrow, but her tone was playful, not accusatory.

"I don't need to read your mind when I can read your face," Charles smiled. He was quiet for a few minutes as he finished the omelette. "Anyways, you have  _real_  talent, and you should think it over. It could be a wonderful opportunity for you, and it'd be fun to live in the city as a young person. I know Peter's mentioned it a few times to me."

"I've never been away from Azazel for longer than a few weeks." She admitted quietly before glancing away. She started soothing her braid, and waves of concern tinged with fear started rolling off her. Charles nodded as the implication of her words hit him. He didn't fully know the siblings history, but he did know that Azazel practically raised the girl, and the two were extremely close. He could easily understand that from Clarice's viewpoint, leaving Azazel's side to go out on her own could feel wrong, and even a bit scary.

"Clarice, sometimes you have to leave your family for a while to become who you're meant to be."

"You mean, like with you and Raven?" She asked. "Because I have to admit, if I grew up at Westchester, I'm not sure how I could ever leave."

"Well, it was a different time, and we were different people." Charles smiled sadly. "I didn't understand Raven, or what she really needed. I  _thought_  I did, and I thought by sheltering her here and keeping her mutation a secret, I was  _helping_  her; but really, I wasn't there for her in the way she needed, or the way she deserved. I was still treating her like a child, and failing to realized that she'd grown up, and had different dreams, needs, and desires than I did. That day on the beach was the first time I realized my mistake; that I needed to let Raven go so she could become who she was meant to be. The hardest thing I did that day was watch my sister - my  _best friend_  - walk away, and not go after her. And over the years, it was almost impossible at times to not use my powers or Cerebro to find her, and try and convince her to come home."

Clarice reached out and her hand over his, squeezing it affectionately. He hadn't realized he'd been close to tears until that moment, thinking over his past and reflecting on his relationship with his own sibling.

"I think you did the right thing, if that matters." She offered with a smile. "If you hadn't let Raven go, she wouldn't have found Azazel, and then we all wouldn't have Kurt, or be a family."

"That is very true, my dear." Charles laughed just as the oven timer dinged. Clarice put on mitts and pulled out the freshly baked cookies. Now the cabin smelled warm and wonderful, like a home. She picked up a cookie.

"Here Professor," Clarice laughed as she broke it in half, "have a cookie."


End file.
